Emperor Dragon
by Blonde Empress
Summary: To save Sam and Bobby, Dean is forced to make a deal with a kind of demon they didn't know existed. The big problem is - he likes the results. NOW COMPLETE.
1. Chapter 1: Crazy Days

Chapter 1 – **Crazy Days**

Something was wrong. Dean's head throbbed, his chest hurt, and his arms tingled like they were asleep. His eyes felt like they had been cemented shut. He took a deep breath and forced his eyes to open. The room was bright, bright white. Dean had to blink several times for his eyes to adjust to the light. Yep, it was a white room. It looked suspiciously like a hospital room except for the fact it was empty.

Cool eyes studied the empty room. He rocked back experimentally. The walls were soft. With a frown he pounded a foot against the floor. The floor was soft, too, and his ankle had something around it that attached it to his other ankle. He tried to push himself up, but his arms were lashed across his chest. What was this, a freaking straitjacket? He looked down. Yep, a freaking straitjacket. What the hell?

It took some effort, especially with the way his chest hurt, but Dean managed to stand up. One of the walls had a little window in it. He moved toward it, assuming that had to be the door. Upon closer inspection, he could see there was a break in the padding in a large rectangle all around the window. Bingo! Door! Unfortunately, hobbled like this he had no hope of kicking it open.

Dean could see through the window without stretching too much, so he stared out until someone noticed him. "Hey! Little help here!"

The man who noticed him ran off down the hall. Dean grimaced. How the hell was he going to get out of here? He heard running footsteps. A young man about his age ran straight to Dean's window. He smiled when he saw Dean looking through at him.

"Hey! What the hell is going on?" he shouted through the window.

The young man in a white lab coat, probably an intern, waved at him to move back. Dean hopped backwards as quickly as he could and the door opened.

"What the hell is going on?" Dean demanded as soon as the man walked in.

The man smiled. "I'm Brett Myers, your doctor. It's good to see you lucid. I need to ask you a few questions."

"Lucid? What do you mean, lucid?" Dean's mouth went dry.

"Lucid, as in coherent."

"I know what it means!" Dean snapped. "What did you mean by it's good to see me lucid?"

"Well, you have been rather, um…"

"Where's my brother?" Dean demanded. This conversation was pointless, he needed to find Sam.

"You have family, then? And what is your brother's name?" His pen was poised over a clipboard.

Dean cocked his head to the side. "He didn't bring me in? To the hospital?" This did not bode well.

"I take it you have no memory of the accident?" Doctor Myers asked.

Dean's eyebrows lifted. "Well, that might explain why my chest hurts like a son of a bitch."

"You were hit by a car while crossing the street," Myers informed him.

Dean felt a little too well to have just been in a pedestrian-auto accident. His next word came out barely more than a suspicious whisper. "When?"

Doctor Myers smiled apologetically. "About three weeks ago."

"What!" Dean felt shock, rage, and one of those damned pesky emotions he did not identify.

"If we had had a name we would have contacted your family, but there was only cash in your wallet."

Duh. Like he was going to carry about five forms of fake ID. But didn't he have a credit card on him? He tried to remember, but his brain felt foggy like he had been asleep for a long time. Well yeah, apparently he had been out for three friggin' weeks!

"Call Sam," Dean relayed his brother's cell number from memory as he watched the doctor scrawl it illegibly on his clipboard. "But in the meantime, get this crap off of me!"

"I'm terribly sorry, uh?" Doctor Myers looked at him hopefully.

"Dean," he muttered, glowering all the while.

"I'm sorry, Dean, but you have been quite the handful. Until I see evidence that you can behave, you are going to have to stay restrained." Myers sounded too serious.

Dean took a deep breath. Controlling his temper was not exactly his strong suit. "And how are you going to get evidence of that if you keep me trussed up like a Thanksgiving turkey?"

"We'll keep you under observation for a while. If you're still lucid this evening, I may allow it for a few minutes." Myers tapped his clipboard, shooting Dean a stern look before he left.

What the freaking hell? Sam had better show up soon and get him the hell out of here! Dean lowered himself to the floor again. Not content to just watch the way the sunlight hit the stupid padded walls, Dean decided to put a little of his training to use. Specifically: Escape.

Despite the pain that lanced through his chest when he tugged at the jacket, Dean kept at it. He had no idea how long it took, but eventually he managed to pull one jacketed arm free. It was still attached in the back, but he could move it. Now for the other arm. Surprisingly that took more effort. He wrestled with it for so long Dean was convinced the guards pretending to be orderlies would come back any second and bust him. Finally it came free! Dean breathed a huge sigh of relief. He wanted to celebrate his victory by relaxing for a few minutes, but he could be discovered any second. Dean wrenched the jacket off over his head, like shrugging out of a particularly troublesome sweatshirt. He tossed it in the corner triumphantly. The soft shackles hobbling his ankles followed shortly.

Dean stretched tired, sore muscles. Ah, much better! He stretched his neck and back, heard tiny popping noises as his spine realigned. Exhausted from his efforts, Dean slid down the wall to enjoy his newfound freedom. Now, if Sammy would just bust him out of here, things would be perfect! What the hell was taking him so long, anyway?

* * *

Three weeks! Dean had been missing for three weeks! Sam paced his motel room, the one he had extended week by week hoping his wayward brother would just show up. As the days had passed he had become more and more concerned, especially after discovering the Impala abandoned in a parking lot a few miles away. Something disastrous must have happened to Dean for him to leave his car. Sam feared psychos like the Benders at work, but he could find no evidence of regular disappearances in the area.

His cell phone went off. Sam dug it out of his pocket, wondering if it was Ellen calling to check on his progress – again. That woman was getting to be… This was an unknown number. Sam stabbed the button to receive the call.

"Hello?"

"Hello. Am I speaking with Sam?" A male voice on the other end asked. Oh god, it was kidnappers. They had their fun with Dean and were ready to demand a ransom he couldn't possibly afford.

"Yes," Sam snapped, trying to brace himself for anything.

"My name is Doctor Brett Myers. I am a psychiatrist at County General Hospital. We have a man here who claims to be your brother. Do you have a brother?"

Did he have a brother? "You mean Dean?" Please, please, please let it be Dean!

"Why yes," the man sounded surprised, "he did claim that his name is Dean."

"I can be there in ten minutes," Sam replied, heading out the door for the Impala.

"Just a moment. I need to discuss Dean with you."

Sam opened the door and slid in behind the wheel. "So discuss," he said, starting the motor. Dean talked and drove all the time, why shouldn't he?

"Your brother has been under psychiatric care since waking up from his surgery."

Sam's heart skipped a beat. "What surgery?" he demanded, taking the next corner a little too fast.

"The patient was hit by a car three weeks ago. He sustained some bruising to the ribs and abdominal areas," Sam had to force the air in and out of his lungs, "but I'm afraid the other damage was far more extensive."

The road was becoming hazy. "Just a minute," Sam took the hand holding his cell to wipe away the tears blurring his vision. "Okay, go head. No, wait." The hospital loomed ahead. "I'm pulling into the parking lot. How do I find you?"

"East Wing, sixth floor. I'll be waiting by the elevators."

After all the hospitals they had been in even the most confusing layouts provided a minor challenge. Sam took this one at a dead run, arriving at the East Wing elevator maybe a minute after parking. It took forever for the damn doors to open, and even longer for the patients inside to be wheeled out, but finally Sam found himself on the sixth floor. Psychiatric. He shuddered.

A man close to Dean's age with short, straight black hair and gold wire-rimmed glasses was waiting for him. Sam knew this had to be Dean's doctor before the man could speak.

"Doctor Myers?" he asked, sticking out a hand. "I'm Sam. Where's my brother?"

"Sam. So nice to finally have a family member to discuss treatments. I am afraid I have been solely responsible for your brother's welfare since he was moved to my department." The man seemed likable enough, but Sam did not care for the idea of someone else being responsible for Dean. That whole phrase just had 'bad news' written all over it.

"What treatments? And what extensive injuries?" Sam demanded, towering over the man, using his full height to his advantage.

"Perhaps we should discuss this in my office? Where I have Dean's charts?" Doctor Myers did not wait for a reply, he turned on his heel and marched away.

Sam's knee bounced nervously as Doctor Myers explained, at great length and in great detail, how Dean's brain was bruised. It had something to do with cranial impact during the accident, hitting both the car and pavement with his head. Sam could not process too much after that, until the doctor explained that Dean had been restrained.

"Oh, he won't like that," Sam said, knowing his eyes were probably wider than normal.

"He did ask me to remove the restraints earlier, before I spoke with you on the phone, but they are there for his protection as well as ours." Doctor Myers assured Sam.

"What do you mean? For his own protection?" Sam leaned forward. Oh, this day was just going to top off his month, wasn't it?

"Yes. I'm afraid we had to remove everything from his room, even the bed, because he kept throwing himself against it. Repeatedly. We suspect he cracked or bruised several more ribs this way, but since he was not in wonderful shape after the accident, we can't be sure."

Sam raked a hand through his hair. "And now?"

"Well, to be honest, this is the first lucid day we've seen. I don't really expect it to last too long, that would be unlikely, but perhaps we should take advantage and go speak to him now? We can come back and discuss further treatments afterwards." Doctor Myers smiled with what Sam assumed was supposed to be encouragement before leading the way.

They arrived at a long white hall with little windows. Doctor Myers stopped at the room closest to his office. "I had him placed here," he said, standing on tiptoe to look in the window, "so I would be close by." He nodded and opened the door.

Sam stepped through first. He noticed some stuff stacked in the far corner, but no Dean. As his eyes swept the room, he realized his brother was standing behind the door. "Dean?" he called cautiously, unsure of the reaction he would receive after his meeting with Dean's doctor.

"Sam!" Dean rushed forward, grasping Sam's arms tightly. "Oh, man, am I glad to see you! I take back everything I've ever said about you. Honest." He cut his eyes at the doctor. "Tell me the truth, Sam," he whispered, leaning close, "how long have I been here?"

"The last time I saw you was three weeks ago, Dean," Sam said. He noticed Dean's hands trembled on his arms. Sam lifted his hands to grasp Dean's elbows.

"Who let you out of the restraints?" Doctor Myers roared. "Orderly!"

Dean backed up, dropping his hands from Sam. "I did," he snarled at the doctor, raising both fists. Sam noticed that his brother seemed unsteady on his feet.

"He seems fine, doctor," Sam said, turning to face Myers. "Maybe the restraints are overkill at this point."

"Demon!"

Sam spun around. Dean was staring around wildly. "It's coming to get you , Sammy! Look out!" He felt Dean's body crash into him and heard the doctor screaming for help.

With a sharp hip thrust, Sam flipped his brother over. He pinned Dean's arms down. "Dean! Dean! Look at me!"

The glazed eyes focused for a moment. "Sammy? Did it get you?"

Sam shook his head. "No, Dean. I'm fine. Come on," he stood and helped his brother to his feet.

The orderlies burst through the door. Sam put out an arm to protect his big brother. "Don't try anything stupid," he warned.

"Sam. He's dangerous when he's like this. You're going to have to trust me on this," Doctor Myers motioned for Sam to move aside.

"You're going to have to go through me to get my brother," Sam warned softly. He felt Dean step beside him.

"Same here," Dean growled.

"Tell them to get out," Sam told the doctor, keeping his voice calm so Dean would not start anything. "Now."

Doctor Myers stared at him for a long moment. He gave Sam something between a sour face and a glare, but he told the orderlies to leave.

"I want him out of here," Sam told the doctor once they were alone. For once Dean was quiet, allowing Sam to handle everything.

"I can't do that, Sam. This is the first time he's been anywhere near lucid for the past three weeks. He could snap at any time. He almost did just now!" Myers pointed to Dean. "He's been screaming about demons and vampires for at least a week. Yesterday he accused me of being a shapeshifter! Would you call any of these actions reasonable?"

Sam cut his eyes at Dean. "Dude. You called your doctor a shapeshifter? No wonder he had you in a straitjacket."

Dean shot him a nasty look but said nothing, standing shoulder to shoulder with Sam.

Sam made eye contact with Myers. "I can handle my brother." Doctor Myers looked doubtful. "Tell you what. If what you've told me is true, then Dean needs to be here for a little while longer."

"Dude!"

Sam ignored Dean's protest. "But I'll stay, too. And no restraints." Sam cast his eyes over the barren room. "We'll need two beds."

"I explained the reason for no furniture," Myers protested.

"Yeah, you did," Sam replied calmly. "And my brother seems much better now. Two beds."

The doctor's face flushed red before he nodded. He left quickly, stealing hard glances at Dean.

"So," Sam turned to face his brother, "been staying out of trouble?"

"Ha-ha," Dean scowled at him, "very funny, Sam. Seriously, dude, I just woke up here a couple of hours ago. I was hoping you'd tell me that I hadn't really been here for three freaking weeks!"

"Okay." Sam nodded. There was no place to sit except on the floor. He sank down, leaning back against the soft padded walls. Who knew these places literally had padded walls? "What was that? Just now?"

Dean rubbed hand over his head, confused. He crossed his legs to sit facing Sam. "What was what?"

"When you screamed about demons and knocked me down?" Sam had a hard time pushing down his panic.

Confusion flashed across Dean's face. "What are you talking about?"

Yeah, that panic just kept on coming, didn't it? "You don't remember knocking me down? Trying to protect me from demons?"

"Well," Dean leaned back on his elbows, looking towards the door, "that sounds like me."

Sam took a deep breath. He would not yell. He would not yell. He would not yell. "That was you, Dean. Not two minutes ago."

Dean squinted at him, clearly trying to make sense of things. "Was that when I was on the floor and you helped me up? I wondered how I got down there." Dean stretched out on the floor. "We should call Bobby."

"Bobby?" Sam felt a pang of guilt. The one person he didn't call. "Why call Bobby?"

Dean's head lifted to glare at him. "In case it is a demon, Sam!" he hissed. "Besides," he said as his head hit the soft floor, "if I haven't called in three weeks, he's probably getting worried."

"Worried?" Sam stared at his brother. "Bobby is probably worried about you just because you haven't called?"

"Yeah." Dean pushed up on his elbows again. "What? We check in." Sam just stared. "It's nice for another hunter to have your back, Sam. It makes sense."

Sam tore his eyes away, nodding. "Yeah. Yeah, you're right. You're right."

"So?" Dean demanded. Sam looked back, shrugged. What did his brother want now? "Do you have your phone on you or not?"

"Oh!" Sam dug in his pocket, producing his cell. "Sure, here ya go."

"Thanks." Dean fiddled with it a moment, cutting his eyes at Sam. "You really didn't call him, huh?"

Sam shook his head. "I don't know why, Dean. I'm sorry, I guess I should've."

"Nah," Dean waved him off. "I'm just going to get chewed out is all."

"Here," Sam held out his hand, "I'll call him now. You don't need to be chewed out."

Looking relieved, Dean handed the phone back over. Then a strange look crossed his brother's face.

"What was that?" Dean demanded, pointing up at the corner. He shot to his feet, any injuries he might have clearly forgotten. "Did you see that?"

Sam scoured that corner with his eyes. "No. What do you think it was, Dean?"

A nasty grimace came over Dean's face. "Probably a ghost, maybe a poltergeist." Dean studied that corner like it held all the answers. "Need to do some research, Sam."

Sam chewed his bottom lip for a moment. "Then we'll need some help. I'm calling Bobby." He hoped that was his reasonable voice, and he didn't hear the edge of his panic wasn't bleeding through.


	2. Chapter 2: Good Night, Haley Joel

_**Chapter 2 – Good night, Haley Joel**_

The dark thing waited in the corner. It was a slight displacement of air. It was a cold spot. It had survived all these years by being patient, and cautious. It knew fear, but it chose not to acknowledge it.

There was a time when it would have acted boldly, but those were the glory days, over and done with. For now it was content to just watch and wait, and as it watched the brothers it felt the first stirrings of hope.

The green eyed boy seemed too good to be true. There was an entire universe of hurt and pain inside that Winchester brother. He was exquisite. He fairly glowed with it, golden pain and sadness, white hot remorse. In the first three weeks the dark one had not dared to hope that such a treasure had been delivered to its doorstep. The boy was a hunter's get, a hunter himself, and he knew what the dark one and the others were, knew_ everything_, from the moment he laid those fevered green eyes on them.

It allowed the spirits to bait him first. There had been other humans before, others with such promise who turned out to be weak, totally unsuitable. Besides, Dean Winchester had the face of a fallen angel. Who's to say he wasn't the bait in a trap laid out by the Powers That Be?

And now the eldest brother was joined by the youngest, Azazel's best and brightest special child. He was tainted, but he might still prove useful.

_Just a little while longer,_ the dark one told itself. Then it would be time to feed.

* * *

Sam didn't fool Bobby one bit.

They got past the "Dean is sorry he didn't call - he's all right, well, sorta" phase of the conversation. Bobby was quiet, too damn quiet, as he listened to Sam explain about the car accident, Dean's injuries, and County General Hospital.

Sam realized that he was tensing up through the shoulders, so much so the sides of his neck and his jaw actually started aching. He told himself he was just being plain stupid. That was the same reaction he used to have with Dad. Bobby _wasn't _John Winchester.

Felt like he was, though. _A little._ Dean hovered around right next to Sam, ready to snatch the phone away and take whatever Bobby was about to dish out. When he wasn't hovering (which irritated Sam, a little) Dean kept glancing over at the corner like he was daring whatever he thought was over there to start some shit.

Sam couldn't see anything. Nothing. Nada.

He could tell Dean still wasn't feeling all that well; he leaned over a little and kept putting his hand on the right side of his ribs. There was this little pained expression on Dean's face that kept creeping in. When he realized it was out, Dean would slip on his game face, but that didn't make Sam feel any better.

Something was different about Dean. Sam knew it, and it made him uneasy.

Finally, when all Sam's words just ran out, and there was nothing more to say, Sam held his breath.

"Shit happens," Bobby said quietly.

"Huh?"

"I said, shit happens. I've been out there looking for that chucklehead brother of yours for the last three weeks. Got concerned when he didn't call after a couple of days. Really got concerned when _you_ didn't call _me_."

Sam's stomach gave a massive lurch towards the floor. "Uh, Bobby…"

"So I started looking for both of you," Bobby went on quietly. Huh. Dude didn't even have to raise his voice. Sam's shoulders slumped like he was a whipped puppy. Dean stared at him wide-eyed.

"You couldn't pick up the phone after a couple of damn days and call me?" Bobby rumbled.

"Uh…"

"What's done is done. Next time pull your head out of your ass and give me a call, huh? In this line of work it's good to have somebody else watching your back. Now, what's _really_ wrong with Dean?'

"Ah…nothing."

"Don't con a con man, boy. I can hear it in your voice. Not gonna ask you again."

"He's…seeing things. Demons. Spirits. Called his doctor a shapeshifter, so they put him in a straight jacket."

"Hey!" Dean grumbled loudly. "You make it sound like I'm psycho! I'm not."

"Huh. He sounds healthy enough. Seeing things, huh? Did that car accident involve a head injury?"

"Yeah."

"Sometimes a really hard knock to the head will widen a person's perception. Dean's seeing dead people now, and God only knows what else. County General, huh?" In his imagination Sam could see Bobby squint and gingerly rub at that space between his eyes with one hand. "Sam, you're not gonna leave him in there, are ya?"

Sam shook his head, even though Bobby couldn't see him do it. "We're in the same room now. Talked to his doctor. I'm staying. I'm not leaving Dean here by himself."

"I need your location. And the doc's name. "

"East Wing, sixth floor." Sam looked at Dean and winked. "Brett Myers. He's a psychiatrist. Just what Dean needs."

Dean scowled and poked Sam in the arm. Hard.

"Hmm. Color me surprised. Okay." Bobby sighed. "Lemme pull up the stats and history on that place. I'll call you back as soon as I can. Watch your back, Sam. I mean it. Now let me talk to your brother, you idjit."

Sam's bitchface came out a little as Dean snatched the phone away from him.

"Hey, Bobby." Dean listened intently for a moment, his head cocked slightly to one side, Then his face fell a little. "Haley Joel? Dude. Seriously? Huh."

* * *

Two hours later, Dean tried not to rock back and forth in the corner.

Hell, that was what _crazy_ people did.

Dean rocked back and forth in the corner, and he repeatedly knocked the back of his head against the soft white padded walls.

Over and over again.

He liked the way the padding felt. Moving his head felt good too. It was the only part of him he could move.

He couldn't understand why he couldn't move his arms. Or his legs. His right bicep hurt, like he'd jabbed himself with a needle or a pin. The air around him was too thick, white and heavy. It twisted around his body, pressed down on him so heavy he couldn't move an inch.

Maybe he could knock some sense into his head.

--_ knock_ -- _knock_---

Maybe he could remember how he got like this.

Another knock against the white padding, and his eyes widened.

_People._

More_ people_ came into the room.

He remembered_ that_. He couldn't remember exactly _when_.

They came out of the walls.

They came out of the walls, and they took...they took...

Dean couldn't remember. He frowned as he increased his rhythm. He _wanted _to remember. He _needed_ to remember.

They wore white, like the walls.

They took _something _away.

--_ knock_ --

They took _someone _away.

---_knock_---

He couldn't remember who.

--_ knock_ -- _knock_---

It wouldn't come, he couldn't think of it, so Dean knocked harder against the white padding, even though his ribs hurt, and his head ached like a bitch, and the spirits swirled in the air all around him, pale and laughing.

Better to just sit there then, with his eyes closed, better to keep on rocking and ignore them, even when they brushed up against his cheek. His freckled skin rose up into goosebumps and he shuddered. He couldn't help himself.

They laughed. It sounded like screaming.

Something ran ice cold fingers through his spiky blond hair. Dean cracked his eyes open just a little.

"…pretty…so pretty…" she whispered.

Dean closed his eyes again, squeezed them shut. He ignored her. At least, he tried to.

She was a nurse when she was alive. Red hair hung around her thin pale face in strings. Her white uniform was dirty, her skirt and white stockinged legs splattered with blood and shit and gore.

When she died she convulsed hard enough to break nearly every bone in her body. Both her arms were broken near the elbows, yellow bone sticking out of her pale grey skin.

One too many trips to the drug closet. After all, they trusted her with the key. She'd overdosed one night, died in one of the empty rooms in the East Wing.

Dean didn't know how he knew that. He didn't want to know that, but he _did_. She smelled ripe with decomp. It flooded his nose, made him gag and cough. She screamed angrily as the others pushed her away. Their voices scratched away at the inside of his brain, made his head hurt even more.

…_so pretty…so warm…sweet boy…good enough to eat…_

Dean's teeth chattered, he shivered uncontrollably as they touched him. They all wanted a piece of him and there wasn't a damned thing he could do to stop them.

He was done with it. Done with seeing, moving, and looking. Maybe if he didn't look they would go away.

Maybe they would _all_ go away.

* * *

The darkness had never been able to manifest itself in two places at once before. The strong connection between the brothers was like a conduit, allowing it to slip easily from one space to another at the same time.

After three weeks of being cautious, the dark one finally came forward, emboldened.

The feast was only beginning.

* * *

Everything faded away, went into the background. Dean was in his quiet place now. He knocked his head against the wall, really got into the rhythm of it. It blocked everything out.

It felt nice.

The touching stopped. The air actually felt warmer.

That felt nice too.

Dean froze when he heard the scrape of wooden chair legs on the padded floor.

_When the hell did they come in,_ he thought wildly to himself. _Didn't hear the door open…I didn't…_

It took an effort to raise his head. To blink. Everything was just so damned fuzzy at first. His sight cleared then, and Dean stared in shock at the man sitting two feet away from him.

"Dean," John Winchester said solemnly. He was dressed in all black.

Dad tilted his head to one side as he stared at Dean up and down. He scowled. "That's a new look for you, huh, bud?

* * *

"…s--some… mi…mis…mis…take…"

That wasn't right. His mouth felt funny, too thick. Sam tried again.

"…you… made…mistake…." Better. Much better. He was in bed, and it was time to get up now. Hard damn bed. He couldn't move his wrists or ankles. There was something across his chest. It was tight.

Doctor Myers smiled brightly. "There's no mistake, Sam. You know, I suspected as much when I first saw you. Mental dysfunction like this usually does run in families. Dean's your older brother. You got your psychosis about demons and spirits from him."

"…not…not…" God, it took an effort just to talk. His left arm hurt. "…real…they're…real.."

"You _think_ they are. Dean infected you, and Dean was infected by your parents. Your mother and father." Dr. Myers walked around the bed, checking the restraints. "Multi-generational, I think. Sad. Sad, but treatable."

Sam shook his head. Slowly. The room turned around him in slow, large circles.

"Did you really think that we weren't listening to you and Dean in the room you were in? We had a camera and microphones set up, Sam. Why do you think I had Dean moved to that room in the first place? All that talk about demons and spirits and such. Fate brought Dean to me and you followed right behind him. I can help you. _We_ can help you."

"…dun't…need your…help…"

Doctor Myers looked thoughtful. "You might be right, Samuel. You don't _need_ the doctor's help. I think you need_ my_ help more."

Sam stared up, and Myers' face darkened. His eyes shifted red, and finally hazel.

"Dad," Sam breathed.

"Sam," John said smoothly. He leaned forward and patted Sam on the arm. "I'm here. I had to come back, because, well, your brother hasn't done a very good job taking care of you like I asked him to."

"…nuh…no…"

John nodded. "I know. It's all right. We can talk now, okay? We couldn't before." Tears stung Sam's eyes. He closed his eyes against that whiskey smooth growl of a voice. It had been so long, he had so many things he didn't say to John, that he wanted to say. It was too late before.

He had a second chance now.

"Talk to me, Sammy," John whispered. "I want to help you."

* * *

"Now, let me get this straight," John rumbled. "This is your excuse. You were hurt. You were hit by a car." The sneer on John's face deepened, and Dean cringed.

"Your head hurts. That your excuse now? You were hit by a car, none of this is your fault, so you can't do your job. Am I getting this right, Dean? You have one job. Just one. To take care of your brother. And you can't even do that one thing right."

Dean blinked. He was suddenly nose to nose with John. and he hadn't even seen him move.

"You're getting sloppy, son. Lazy." John knelt there and looked at Dean with a critical eye. "I never should have left. Never should have made the deal for your sorry ass."

John sighed and shook his head wearily. He reached out and carded Dean's hair with his broad fingers. Dad's touch was warm, and Dean found himself leaning into it. "Sam and I could have made it. We would have had some rough spots, but we could've gone on without you just fine."

"Dad, please, I---"

Something hard slammed into the side of Dean's face. Everything blazed white inside his head.

After a minute or so Dean realized the object was John's fist.

"I told you," John rumbled relentlessly through the fog. "I told you that you had to watch out for Sammy. If you couldn't save him, you had to kill him. Didn't I tell you that? You can't even follow a simple order anymore."

Hands grabbed Dean's arms, yanked him up on his feet. His ankles were still hobbled together, and he stumbled forward, into John.

Another hard slap across the face. Dean blinked. He was drowning in all that whiteness. He breathed it in, and it threatened to swallow him up. His eyelids were so heavy, he couldn't keep them open. Dean's head bobbled. His chin dipped towards his chest.

John slammed him against the padded wall, hard.

"Listen to me, you worthless piece of shit!" John roared. "Christ, you're an embarrassment to me, you know that? The only reason I kept you around was so you could help me hunt the demon. That was the _only_ reason, Dean. You're not good for anything else. You never were."

John's right hand moved down to his side, and Dean tracked the movement. He recognized John's knife, clean and gleaming in the overhead light.

The silver blade was wicked sharp and clean, but not for long. Dean didn't know _how_ he knew _that_. He just did.

"I'm sorry, son," John murmured soothingly. "I should have known better. You were always the slow one. The stupid one. Not much brainpower behind that pretty face of yours." He raised the knife, reversed it, and tapped the hilt against the space between Dean's eyes.

Dean barely flinched.

John nodded approvingly as he switched his grip on the knife. "I need to remind you, Dean. I need to remind you of your place. Of how it is, and how it'll always be." He pushed the hem of the straightjacket up. The air in the room was cool against Dean's skin.

The tip of the knife blade skipped lightly over the lean muscles of Dean's stomach.

The first cut is always the deepest. Dean promised himself he wouldn't scream.

He didn't.

* * *

TBC

* * *


	3. Chapter 3: Spirits versus Hallucinations

Chapter 3: **Spirits versus Hallucinations**

Doctor Brett Myers stared intently at the monitor covering his newest patient. Sam Smith, because he still had not been able to locate sufficient identification on either man, was pleading with his father to forgive him. Something about abandoning the family in favor of a college education. Yeah, these guys were seriously screwed up.

Brett switched over to a view of the brother, Dean. Dean lay on the floor of his room, still. Odd. Dean usually rested against the far wall while he beat his head against it. There was a dark spot on Dean's white shirt, but it was too early to be from lunch and it had not been there an hour ago. Curious, Brett had the camera zoom in. It looked like...blood? How in the hell could Dean have possibly hurt himself in a barren padded room while he was drugged to the eyeballs? Shit!

"Orderly!" Brett shouted as he raced from his office to Dean's room. "Orderly!"

Two large men appeared in the corridor. "You," he pointed to one, "bring a gurney. You," he pointed to the other, "come with me."

Brett fumbled with the keys in his panic, but he managed to open the door. Dean was in the same position on the floor and blood pooled in a dark red blob next to him, looking more like spilled gelatin than a man bleeding out. "God damn it," Brett muttered through clenched teeth. He yanked Dean's top up to reveal several nasty gashes to the abdomen.

"What the hell?" he demanded loudly of no one in general.

"How'd he do that, Doc?" the orderly asked from over his shoulder.

"How the hell should I know?" Brett snapped. "Give me your lab coat," he demanded, motioning at the orderly.

The man looked confused, but he shrugged out of the white garment. The ones the orderlies wore were cheap and not personalized, so the man could go grab another from the supply closet. Brett wadded it up and pressed it against Dean's wounds.

"Where's that gurney?" he demanded.

"Right here," the first orderly called out, skidding to a halt outside Dean's door.

"You two lift him up and put him on it," Brett instructed. He tried to make sure they did not jostle Dean too much or cause the bleeding to increase. Brett continued to hold pressure on the wounds while the three of them raced down to the ER. Shit. He hoped the hospital didn't fire him.

* * *

"Come again?" Bobby demanded of his contact on the other end of the phone line. Or freaking cell line, or whatever the hell was used these days. If it didn't involve vanquishing a demon, he really didn't give a damn as long as it worked.

"I said, that County General was built on the site of the old, original Jeff Davis hospital. Apparently it was built over a Civil War cemetery, and that's in the south mind you. So to appease the tax payers, they named it after Jefferson Davis. Nice, huh? Anyway, it was only open for maybe five years and, the way the story goes, during those five years there were all kinds of operations, like amputations, done without anesthetic. Perfect breeding ground for vengeful spirits, not to mention the disgruntled souls of all the graves which were demolished and desecrated. The hospital closed its doors suddenly and without explanation. The county built a new one a couple of miles away, even bought land this time instead of building over a cemetery. This County General opened about a year ago, built right in the footprint of the old Jeff Davis. I guess if nothing's happened in the last forty years, nobody remembers what a bad idea it was in the first place.

"Personally, I'd steer clear of it if I were you," his contact advised. "I know a couple of hunters, kind of green, who headed out there about six months ago. Never heard from 'em again."

Bobby groaned, grabbing the back of his neck with one hand. Yeah, that was a classic Winchester migraine coming on. Leave it to Dean to get himself admitted into the most haunted hospital in the damn country, possibly the whole damn world.

"Great," he spat out sarcastically. "That's just fantastic. I don't suppose you'd like to join me?"

His contact laughed. "Bobby, I'm in the business of information, not hunting. I leave that up to the crazy guys like you."

"Gee, thanks." Bobby hung up. He made a note to send that crazy s-o-b a bottle of scotch, but it might have to wait. Bobby did not want to lose any time. He had a real bad feeling, and Sam didn't call him back this morning like he was promised. All the hairs on the back of his neck prickled as they stood straight out.

After packing a liberal supply of salt, herbs, consecrated iron and holy water, Bobby grabbed a change of clothes and stuffed them in a bag before walking out to his car. The truck was too slow, he needed some speed this time. That real bad feeling? Every minute it felt worse.

* * *

Sam's mouth felt funny, kind of like right after oral surgery, dry and sore from all the packing and being held open for hours. His eyes wouldn't open at first, but with a little work Sam managed to pry them open a little. For some strange reason his arms wouldn't move.

Once his eyes were partially open, because gunk on his eyelashes made them stick together, Sam recognized the low white lighting and the odd way the walls looked. He was in the psych ward of the hospital holding Dean. Oh, crap. He should have taken Dean out of here when he had the chance, assuming he had ever had a chance.

Sam rolled his head to the side, taking in the whole room. It was small. The bed he was strapped down to was the only furniture in here. From the way he felt, Sam guessed he had been doped to the gills and it hadn't all worn off yet, because the restraints didn't hurt. He didn't feel all that worried either, which was really unusual for him and ought to be alarming, but he didn't care about it either. So, yeah, good drugs.

The door opened and a young doctor walked in. There were some spots on his doctor's coat which looked like blood, but he didn't find that concerning either. Actually, it was kind of funny.

"Want some help with those spots?" Sam offered with a grin. "I'm pretty good with getting blood stains out."

The doctor frowned at him. "When was your last dosage?" he demanded. "You sound a little too coherent."

Sam chuckled. "Duuuuude, where's my car?" His laughter did not echo off of the padded walls, but the joke was still funny. The doctor didn't laugh, though. Bummer. Dean would. "Hey, where's my brother? He thinks I'm funny."

Now the doctor looked kind of concerned. "I wanted to talk to you about your brother. What's his name again?"

Sam groaned in frustration. "I told you. Dean. Duh!" He rolled his eyes. "You're pretty stupid for a doctor. Why am I tied up again? I kind of think you told me, but my brain feels fuzzy."

"If Dean were locked in a room alone, without any furniture or sharp objects of any kind, would he be capable of, say, stabbing himself?" the doctor asked.

Sam chewed his lower lip in concentration. "Is this a riddle? I don't like riddles. Dean likes limericks."

The doctor sighed as he shook his head. "Never mind. I didn't think you'd be any help. It was a long shot." He removed a syringe from his pocket and approached Sam's bed.

Panicked, Sam watched the doctor reach up for the clear tube running from a plastic bag down to his arm. Hey! When did they put in an I.V. anyway?

"What's that?" Sam demanded. "What are you doing?"

The doctor injected the contents of the syringe into his I.V. "Just a little something to make you more compliant, Sam," he said in a soothing voice.

As cold crept from his arm through his shoulder and spread across his body, Sam relaxed. The room began rocking gently from side to side and Sam smiled at it. "Yeah, I like that," he said slowly. "I like boats. Dean hates airplanes."

"Does he?" the doctor's voice came from far, far away. "What else does Dean hate?"

"P-people," Sam stuttered. "He says people are crazy." The room made a lazy spin to the right.

"Very interesting, Sam," the doctor's voice deepened, became more commanding. "Look at me, son."

Sam responded automatically, recognizing the voice. Dad stood over him with a sour expression. "I know you didn't really want to leave for college. So why did you?"

Tears stung Sam's eyes, washing away the rest of the gunk sticking to his eyelashes. "Because I wanted to measure up," he admitted softly. "I thought if I did something Dean couldn't, you'd treat me like an adult."

"An adult?" Dad scoffed. Loud. Funny, Dad's voice echoed in here but Sam's didn't. "You wanted to be treated like Dean?" He laughed and his laughter echoed as the room spun around and around and around. Sam was starting to feel kind of queasy. This wasn't fun anymore.

"You always listen to Dean," Sam tried to argue as his stomach threatened to jump into his throat.

"Well sure," Dad replied in a stern voice. "Because Dean listens to me, he knows how to follow orders. I value the opinions of a good soldier, not some whiny-ass college kid."

Hot tears poured down the sides of Sam's face, soaking his hair on both sides. "I know," he whispered, his voice cracking under the strain of speaking. "I screwed up."

"That you did," Dad told him. "And your brother paid for it."

"Wha-what?" Sam's head snapped to the side. For a moment, a split second, Sam could have sworn Dad's eyes were solid black. He didn't quite look like Dad either, kind of … wavy. Like a television set with bad reception. But then it was gone. Sam blinked hard, trying to clear his vision. It must be the drugs messing with his mind.

"I said," Dad repeated slow, so someone as dense as Sam could understand, "your brother paid for it."

"How?" he squeaked in a small voice.

Dad smiled and Sam felt all the warmth in the room race for safety, replaced with bone-chilling cold. "Not paying attention again, Sammy? What did your moron doctor ask about Dean? Think hard, now."

Sam's tears slacked as he concentrated on replaying his conversation with the doctor. "If Dean was capable of stabbing-" He gasped, his eyes locking on Dad. "Stabbing himself?"

Dad nodded. "And after I went and sold my soul to save Dean. My favorite son. The good one. The one who deserved it," he said with a dark sneer. "You go and let your brother stab himself because he thought you were dead?"

"D-dead?" Sam stammered. "But why would he..."

"Because that's what they told him, Sam," Dad snapped. "I gave him one last job, to take care of you. I knew Dean would need something to focus on after I was dead. He's that loyal. If he didn't have you to look after, don't you know he would have done it long before now?"

Dad faded in and out again, he turned wavy and split into two or three images before he solidified. Sam shook his head to clear it, but it made the room shake. Shit. He was gonna hurl.

Sam turned his head and leaned as far to the side as he could as the acidic taste of bile rose in his throat. He heaved twice before the sound of heavy liquid, like chunky pudding hitting the floor, came to his ears. A horrible smell filled the room, causing Sam to hurl again. When his stomach was empty, he laid down with a funky taste in his mouth and the room spinning rapidly. He closed his eyes against it, wishing for the world to settle back down.

Some time later the smell was gone. Sam rolled his head to the side. His face was clean, even though the nasty taste was still in his mouth, and there was no evidence on the floor. Had someone cleaned it up, or had Sam been dreaming? And how warped was it to dream about vomiting?

"Hello, Sam." The doctor walked through his door again. "Let's try this again. I'd like to talk to you about your brother, Dean."

Sam peered through slitted eyelids before closing them. This was not freaking happening. It was just a nightmare. If he went back to sleep, he would wake up soon. He hoped.

* * *

Sarah sat next to the poor boy in the recovery room. The others had been picking on him something terrible. Sarah felt so sorry for him, she followed him here after the dark thing hurt him. Hugging her doll Amanda close, Sarah watched as his chest rose and fell in a regular pattern. Too bad. She had been hoping for someone new to play with, and he looked like fun.

Her big brother, Nathan, appeared on the far side of the poor boy's bed. "Still alive?" he asked.

Sarah nodded. "Looks like."

Nathan shrugged and smiled at her. "I found an old lady upstairs who can see us. She thinks I'm her grandfather. I think it's the uniform." He gestured at his soldier's uniform. Nathan had died a brave soldier during the War Between the States.

Sarah stared at him. "So?"

"So? Don't you want to see who she thinks you are?" Nathan asked. "I'll bet you can tell her some of your Amanda stories. She seems like an old lady who would like them."

Sarah sighed as she looked down at the boy again. "Do you think he's older than you? When you died?"

Nathan frowned as he studied the boy's face. "Maybe," he admitted. "Why? Does it matter?"

Sarah shrugged at her brother. "I was just wondering if he would play with me. I think he'd be fun."

Nathan disappeared. Sarah tensed, wondering what her big brother was up to now. "BOO!" he shouted from behind her.

Sarah spun around but Nathan was gone. She turned her head toward the ceiling. "Oh, I'm so going to get you!" Sarah rushed after her brother, following his trail up to the third floor. She guessed he was leading her to the old woman's room. Okay, they could play his game for now. Later, he'd have to come check on the poor boy the others had been picking on. If she was lucky the dark thing would come back and release him from his body so he could play with them.

* * *

Brett Myers decided to review the tapes from Dean Smith's room. He had to know how Dean had managed to stab himself in an empty room while wearing a straitjacket. Maybe the man was some kind of illusionist or contortionist. Could he have stolen an object off of the orderly who fed him breakfast?

Running the recorded views of Dean's room back, Brett found a point where Dean was in his usual spot against the far wall banging his head. What was with the mentally disturbed hitting their heads all the time? Were they trying to knock things back into place?

Brett watched the next few minutes closely, in real time. Dean continued to bang his head against the wall for a while, but then he stopped. His head turned to intently face someone who was not there. Brett knew Dean had to be hallucinating because he was talking to a spot in the room. Now he regretted taking the microphone from Dean's room to use in Sam's. Stupid budget restrictions.

Dean cringed, drawing back away from the focal point of his imaginary discussion. He started to pull away, lean backwards, but then his head snapped to one side. Dean blinked long and slow, like he was having trouble focusing. Then he leaped to his feet, which wasn't humanly possible considering he was in a straitjacket and ankle shackles. Next Brett watched as Dean plunged back, off of his feet, into the wall. Now how in the hell did that happen? It looked more like Dean had been thrown than jumping backward, which was what must have happened. Logically.

Then Dean's head slammed back against the wall and his face reflected pure pain. As Brett watched, red seeped through the white shirt and Dean's head twisted slowly from side to side as if he were being tortured. His mouth never opened and he didn't cry out but more blood seeped through. Finally he fell in the heap where Brett had found him.

Good God Almighty! What was that?

Quickly Brett burned the video to a DVD so he wouldn't lose it. He had the funny feeling things like this tended to be 'lost'. Especially around here. Which reminded him, he hadn't checked his mail today. Brett had applied for several positions in other towns. Maybe an offer would arrive today and he wouldn't have to worry about being fired after all. Or about what happened to Dean.


	4. Chapter 4: Running in the Dark

_**Chapter 4 – Running in the dark**_

The darkness was flexible. It didn't usually indulge itself in tasting blood like some common vampire, but any part of Dean Winchester was too precious to waste.

It lapped at the bloody knife blade with its long, mottled blue forked tongue. Some of the others, the more stupid ones, hovered around nearby, pale formless shapes, vainly hoping for a taste. It never shared anything with the others, unless it was bored, or was sated, full at last.

This was one thing it would_ not_ share.

The dark one savored the taste, and shuddered. It shifted its shape. John Winchester's image shimmered and softened, faded around the edges as the memories in Dean's blood came to the surface. First Sam Winchester, then Mary Winchester, Cassie Robinson, Bobby Singer, the Yellow Eyed Demon, Gordon Walker, Doctor Brett Myers…

It ripped through hundreds of shapes in a matter of seconds. People Dean had met, ones he'd helped and saved, and most importantly, those he couldn't save. The dark one kept the memory of them all. They were all useful.

The next to last image drawn from Dean's blood was that of a young girl ripped apart by a black dog, from the last hunt, just before Dean's hit and run. She was gloriously bloody, gutted and torn. She'd died when her moron of a father decided that he could handle things himself. The moron was the town sheriff, and he had Winchester locked up for vagrancy. The jail cell didn't hold the young hunter for long, of course, but he arrived at the scene seconds too late. He killed the black dog, but the girl and her idiot father were dead.

The final image was Dean Winchester himself, sad-eyed, weary, a single tear streaking those high cheekbones. His broad shoulders sagged underneath that brown leather jacket as he lowered his Colt 1911 to his side.

More deaths on his conscience. More proof that he was a worthless fuck-up.

It was intoxicating.

The dark one threw back its head and shrieked in triumph.

The vibration ripped through the air in County General. One of the orderlies went stone deaf in an instant. A woman patient in the ER dropped dead of a heart attack.

* * *

Old Mrs. Allerton was one of his favorites. He always hitched a ride with her whenever she came in, which lately had been on a regular basis. She was elderly for a human, and her body was just about worn out. She didn't seem to mind. And she was too weak to throw him off.

That was the whole problem. He'd gotten weak. He couldn't stay inside the flesh anymore.

Oh, he tried to force himself on a meatsuit several times. It was easy sliding down their open mouths, through their noses, but he made them sneeze so hard they coughed him back out. Never mind that they were coughing up black smoke. The damn humans always somehow seemed to explain him away as an allergy or dust in the air.

It was damned embarrassing.

So Zazithibod, hellspawn, the two millionth demon birthed by Naspiroth, The Unholy Bride of the Damned, was reduced to nosing around a hospital, drawing energy off the sick and the dying, feeding off the dark one's scraps whenever he could.

Hell of a way to make an unliving.

* * *

Dean was bored.

He sat behind the wheel of the Impala. He drummed out the beat of _Hells Bells_ on the steering wheel. He closed his eyes, threw his head back, really got into it.

_I'm the rolling thunder; the pouring rain.  
I'm comin' on like a hurricane_.

Dean put on such a show people walking down the sidewalk nearby actually stopped, stood there and watched him for a moment.

_Bad Boy Boogie_ was next.

_It was the seventh day, I was the seventh son  
And it scared the hell out of everyone  
They said stop, I said go  
They said fast, I said slow  
They said yes, I said no  
I do the bad boy boogie..._

By the end of the song Dean decided he'd waited long enough. He kept hearing this beeping noise. It was coming from somewhere and it was irritating the hell out of him. He smelled disinfectant, and alcohol, and not the good kind, either. This smelled medicinal, like in a hospital.

Not one of his favorite places.

They were burning daylight, and man, his stomach was growling. _Feed me, dude. Grab the brat and let's go find some red meat. _

"Okay, Poindexter," Dean stepped through the double doors of the library. The key to getting Sam to leave was to be loud and obnoxious.

Dean could _do_ loud and obnoxious. "Enough is enough. It's time to…"

Dean looked, _really _looked this time. He stopped dead in his tracks. He forgot how to breathe. Suddenly _boring_ looked pretty friggin' good right about now.

The head librarian was in no shape to tell Dean that _this is a library, and you have to be quiet, sir. _She was in no condition to say or do anything ever again. She lay on the large wooden table, spreadeagled, with bloody and torn books piled on her body, on the table all around her. She was naked, gutted from her throat to her belly button.

"Hey, Dean." Sam's smile was warm and cheerful, even with the blood smeared around his mouth.

There was so much damn blood. Sam had been busy finger painting the runes, all over the place.

Sam licked his lips. "I found this spell in one of these books." He shrugged. "Old Sumerian thing, you know? Wanted to see if it worked." He looked down at the librarian's dead blank face and smiled. "She said she would help me. Too bad it didn't work."

Dean remembered to breathe at last. His breath hitched and jerked in his chest as he looked around.

_No. Dead._ They were all freakin' _dead_.

…_watch Sam, Dean. Watch your brother…_

Four teenaged girls sat slumped at one of the tables nearby. Their heads were twisted all the way around to the back.

_If you can't save him, you'll have to kill him. _

The rest of the patrons and staff lay on the floor like discarded rag dolls a child had gotten bored with and tossed away. Their heads and limbs were at odd, broken angles.

_You'll have to kill Sam. Do you hear me, Dean? That's an order, son._

Sam's dark yellow eyes glowed with amusement. He hadn't touched any of them. He didn't need to go hands on anymore.

_God._ "S-Sam?" Dean stammered. His eyes darted around nervously. The weight of his pistol in his back waistband was suddenly too heavy. He never noticed that before.

It would be so easy. Pull the Colt 1911.

_Not Sam._

Aim.

_Please, no. _

Squeeze the trigger.

_Not my brother. Not Sam…_

"We…we g-gotta go. _Now._"

"Why?" Sam looked confused.

_If you can't save Sam, you'll have to kill him, Dean._

_Please, I – I can't. He's the only family I got left. _

"Why? What the hell did you…" Dean glanced up at the ceiling, at the corners of the room. Small town library. Kinda unlikely they'd have security cameras, but still---

Sam actually pouted. "I don't wanna leave."

_Oh, God, no. _Dean leaned forward. "You killed them," he hissed. "Killed_ everyone_. We gotta go. _Now."_

His mind was still racing ahead. He knew what he'd touched. He could wipe his prints off the door handles, but _Sam…_

Dean realized dully that he might have to do a salt and burn on the bodies, torch the place.

"No, we don't." Sam laughed. "You're not doing this for me. You're doin' this because you're afraid of Dad."

"What?"

"Sure." Sam smiled, free and easy. He flexed his fingers as he took a step forward. His fingertips glowed dark golden.

_I had one job. Just one. Take care of my family. And I fucked that up, just like I always do._

Dean's eyes narrowed. He took a step back, and the Colt was suddenly out in his hands, aimed right between Sam's eyes.

Sam laughed. "What's this? You gonna shoot me, Dean? Y'know, I always did wonder about you. And Dad. What the hell kind of father was he?"

"Stop it, Sam."

"What the hell kind of father lays this kind of shit on his own son?" Sam spat out. His yellow eyes blazed. "And what kind of big brother lets his little brother turn into something like me?"

Sam took another step forward. Dean's aim wavered slightly.

_Please, Sam. Stay there, _Dean pleaded silently. _Please… _

Dean backed up, used his command voice, loud and forceful. "Sammy, I swear to God, you take another step and I'll drop your ass like a bad habit."

Sam cocked his head to one side. "I can hear you, big brother," he said slyly. "I know what's going on in that head of yours. Your mouth is talking all macho, but inside you're bawling like a little bitch."

Dean felt it when his game face broke. _Please, Sam, don't move. Don't…_

Sam stood there for a moment. Then he moved forward.

Dean pulled the trigger. Three times.

* * *

Joannie had always been a prankster, even when she was alive. That was the reason she'd died, actually. Apparently her biker boyfriend Robbie didn't share her sense of humor, and he beat her real bad when she super-glued his beer bottle to his right hand.

She lasted just long enough to die in the ER of County General Hospital. What were the odds, huh?

Well, this afterlife wasn't _that_ bad. She kept to herself, made a few friends. They weren't_ all_ freaks in here. She was actually quite found of the little ghost girl, Sarah, and Sarah's brother, Nathan, was actually kind of cute. Joannie always was partial to men in uniform.

Joannie wondered about her parents, what they would think of her now, college dropout turned biker chick turned spook, and sometimes it seemed so damned funny to her that she laughed out loud.

She scared the hell out of the normals when she did, but she didn't care. She did it anyway. A lot.

Now she was hungry. She couldn't get to the green-eyed hottie (damn darkness wanted him all to himself, she grumbled) but the other brother was alone now. The others were too chickenshit to go near him.

Joannie ghosted through the door to the cell and just stood there for a moment.

God, he was a big one. Tall, with shaggy brown hair, broad shoulders, and big hands.

Joannie liked guys with big hands.

Maybe she'd gotten it wrong, maybe_ he_ was the older one. They were both cute, though, Real cute. She always did like hazel and green eyes.

There was something familiar about him, too. Joannie floated over to the bed and stared down at him.

_Holy shit._ It hit her in an instant.

_She knew him._ He'd been at Stanford the same time she was. She couldn't remember his name. It was something funny…_Colt_, maybe?

She'd seen him on campus several times, walking along with his books and his little blonde girlfriend tucked neatly underneath one arm.

Joannie laughed to herself, loud and shrill, and big boy's eyelids flickered. _Oops._

Just a taste. That was all she'd need, a quickie. Couldn't take her time with this one, because that damn dark thing didn't have a sense of humor. She'd seen it shred way too many souls not to know _that_.

She made her fingers just solid enough to brush against the side of his face. He opened his eyes and stared at her.

"Jess," the boy murmured softly.

* * *

Sam was still warm. His eyes were closed. He looked peaceful, even with that huge bloody hole in his chest. Dean rocked back and forth slowly. He could pretend Sam was asleep, for a little while longer, at least. Sam felt light in his arms. Huh. Kid hadn't been eating much lately. Picked at his food. Just one more piece of evidence that Dean was a total fuck up. Hadn't seen _this _one coming, now had he?

Dean ignored the blood on his hands. Hell, he'd spilled so much blood during his life, his skin was thick with it. No matter how hard he tried, he could never wash it off.

This was different, though. This was _Sam_.

Dean sat there, and he hugged Sam, tight and fierce. He rested his chin on the top of Sam's head.

Kid needed a haircut.

He was still warm.

It's okay. It's all right.

"It'll be okay, Sammy." Dean said slowly. "It will. I know you're alone there, but I'm coming, dude. I'm coming. Not gonna let you run in the dark by yourself." Dean glanced down at his right hand. He felt numb. He couldn't feel his arms and legs anymore, but he could see well enough. The Colt was still in his right hand. He still had five in the clip.

He'd only need one.

"I'm a freak, you know? Always known that. Something's…something's wrong with me. I know that. Always have. Everybody leaves me. _Everybody._ Dad's gone, because of me. Saw Mom the night of the fire. Never told anybody that. Don't think even Dad knew. Then he gave you to me, put you in my arms, and told me to run outside with you as fast as I could."

"So I did. And I have. But…I…I never could run fast enough…or far enough…" His sight blurred, blurred so much he couldn't see anymore, couldn't see the bodies or smell the blood and bile. That was okay, but he wasn't going to start crying, not here. Not now.

Dean took a really deep breath, and settled himself.

"All my life, I had one job. Just one. Take care of my family. No matter what." Dean laughed, and it was a broken, brittle sound.

He shook his head. "I couldn't even do _that_ right. I fucked it up, Sammy. Dad told me to watch you, and I didn't. Shoulda seen this comin', you know? Shoulda treated this like I was on a job. I could've saved you. I could've. I can save other people, but I can't even save my own family? Dude." Dean sniffed nosily. His face contorted into a mask of inconsolable grief, and then he schooled himself, made his features go blank. He shook his head again. "That's all kinds of fucked up, right? All kinds…"

His voice trailed off. Dean stared blankly into space.

Sam was hellspawn.

_Okay. Got that. _

He was down in Hell now. Highly unlikely that after what he'd done and with those yellow eyes of his that Saint Peter was gonna give him a free pass into Heaven.

_Check._

Dean stared at his Colt 1911. _I gotta stay with him, no matter what._

_Suicides go to Hell. _

_Sounds like a plan. _Dean raised his arm, pushed the muzzle of his gun into the underside of his chin, and pulled the trigger.

* * *

"Code blue to recovery…code blue…"

"Jesus Christ…no respiration…no pulse…"

"Charging paddles…clear…"

* * *

It was dark. It was dark all around. He couldn't understand why. If this was Hell, it wasn't what Dean expected. No little red dudes with pitchforks. No fuglies so ugly they'd make Anton LeVey piss himself, scream and run and hide. Dean could feel something solid underneath his feet, but he couldn't see anything.

He couldn't see or feel Sam.

"Such a talented boy," the darkness whispered. "Thought you'd leave me just as we were getting started?" It pushed up against him and Dean's skin prickled up into goosebumps. "We'll be together for years, Dean. You're young. Strong. Such a delectable morsel." Something long and slimy brushed up against Dean's jaw.

_Oh, God, no…._

Fugly. It was a fucking fugly. Dean opened his mouth, to curse, say something smartass, but he couldn't. All he could do was breathe.

_Son of a bitch…_

"You're so cute when you get all macho like that, Dean. Of course, you won't ever remember our little talk. I'll make sure of that. You'll be lost in your own head, and I can feed off all those lovely, bloody fears and memories you've got."

He couldn't even raise his hand to give this sonofabitch the finger. _Fuck you, you lousy---_

The darkness shifted into John Winchester, tall, dark and imposing, larger than life. Its eyes flashed red. "That's enough."

Dean went blank inside. He breathed. He waited, silent and obedient.

"Better. Much better. Now, that little scenario with Sam, in the library? I want to see it again. Show it to me."

Dean was a good boy.

Dean did as he was told.


	5. Chapter 5: Nightmares

Chapter 5: **Nightmares**

The darkness felt another, one of these worthless spirits, near Azazel's chosen one. No, it mustn't be allowed. The others must learn these two belonged to it, and it alone. First it would shred the spirit and then, perhaps, it could play with Sam for a while. If Dean had such delicious fears what might his younger brother harbor? It left Dean at the moment he replayed the amazing scene of the bloody library. Well hopefully Dean would continue to torment himself in its absence. It was a shame to let such fears and insecurities go to waste.

It raced away, sighting on the obnoxious spirit who dared mess with its next meal.

* * *

"Is it gone?" Sarah whispered.

Nathan's head poked through the wall and he peered around the recovery room. "I think so. Sarah, I don't think he's worth all this trouble. You know what the dark thing can do to us."

Sarah shivered despite the fact she no longer could feel cold or heat. "I know. But he looks so nice."

Nathan groaned as he slipped past the poor boy to hover near the door. "I tried, Sarah. When the doctors came in to save him, I tried. You know I did."

She nodded slowly at her big brother. "We almost did it, didn't we, Nathan? We almost had someone new to play with."

"Yeah." He motioned for her to come close. Nathan wrapped a transparent arm around her and Sarah remembered how, when they were alive, it always made her feel better. "I have a feeling we'll have another chance. Don't worry."

"What do you think it's doing to him?" she asked, hugging her doll close as she relaxed in her brother's arms. "Why does it want to play with him so bad?"

Nathan shrugged. "I guess it knows something we don't."

"But it didn't want to play at all when he first came here," Sarah protested. "I didn't know it wanted him."

Nathan pulled her close to the poor boy's bed. His eyelashes fluttered.

"He's waking up," Sarah whispered. She looked around. "It isn't coming back, is it?"

Nathan pressed her close to him. "I don't think so," he said in a soft voice. "But be ready to leave fast. Just in case."

"Sa-a-am," the pretty boy moaned. "Noooo..."

* * *

Sam saw a girl who looked kind of familiar. She reminded him of Stanford and Jess for some strange reason. Then something dark and sinister plowed right through her face. Her mouth opened in a silent scream as her face, then the rest of her ethereal form, ripped apart like a semi through tissue paper. Then there was nothing but darkness.

A light flickered on. Sam blinked his eyes as they adjusted to the change. He was in one of those strange motel rooms his brother had a flair for choosing. This one had a mirrored disco ball hanging in the middle of the room and psychedelic wallpaper. Clearly the interior decorator had no idea that the sixties and seventies were two different decades.

Dean sat on the bed near the door, sharpening his favorite hunting knife. "Afternoon, sleeping beauty."

His brother's voice sounded strange, a little off.

"Afternoon?" he asked, sitting up. A headache throbbed behind his eyes. "What happened to this morning."

"Well," Dean said slowly in a flat voice, "after the night you had, I figured you could use some sleep."

Sam raked his memory but he couldn't remember anything. "Why? What happened last night?" He ran a hand through his hair and it felt slick and greasy, like he desperately needed to wash it.

Dean's attention never wavered from his hunting knife. "Oh, nothing much. Just drove us someplace, in my car, without telling me why. Never did mention what it was we were hunting, I guess because it wasn't really a hunt. Loaded my gun for me, I assumed so I'd have the right kind of bullets to kill whatever it was. Made me stand by the side door of this building and told me, ordered me, to wait for your signal and then bust in." Dean paused in his story, his skilled hands sliding the blade across the whetstone in even, regular strokes. "I guess it was inevitable."

His right hand lifted the knife. In one smooth movement, Dean tossed it into the air to catch it by the blade. His right hand snapped backwards over his shoulder before flying straight out. The knife blade glinted in the light from the lamp Dean had been working by before it stuck in the wall. The knife vibrated with the force of Dean's throw.

"What was it?" Sam asked weakly, having a distinct fear of what it might be.

Dean's eyes leveled on him, cold and distant. "It was bad enough being Dad's trained attack dog. Never thought you'd expect it."

"Dean, I wouldn't..." Sam started to protest.

"You would and you did!" Dean snapped, but there was no heat in his words, just a cold acceptance. "That's the way you really want it? You can find yourself another dog." He jerked his head at the motel table where there was a sheet of paper. Several names were written in Dean's careful script. "Any one of them'd cut off his right arm to hunt with a Winchester, even put up with crap like last night."

Dean stood to retrieve his knife.

"B-but Dean," Sam stammered. "We-we're brothers!" he cried desperately. Who else could he really trust and depend on? Who else knew him so well? There was no one Sam would hunt with except Dean.

"Brothers?" Dean snorted as he yanked his knife free of the wall. "Sam, I think you trashed that one when you went to school." Once again those cold green eyes locked on Sam. "Or don't you remember telling me 'don't call me, I'll call you'? Kiss off if I ever heard one."

"Wait," Sam said, confused. "I never said that."

"Sure you did." Dean slung his duffle, already packed, over his shoulder. "The car is mine. I consider it payment in full from Dad for all the years of loyal service, so you'll have to find yourself another ride." He motioned to the weapons duffle in the middle of the floor. "I split the weapons with you. You get the spare shotgun, because I'm keeping the good one." His eyes narrowed on Sam. "Besides, I'm the dummy who figured out how to make 'em shoot rocksalt."

"Y-you're not dumb!" Sam jumped to his feet and the room whirled around. There was a familiarity with the way the room was rotating, but Sam couldn't quite identify it. "You're my big brother and we're in this together!"

Dean paused, his hand on the doorknob. Then a dark shadow crossed his face and he scowled, a look usually reserved for vampires and federal agents. "Not going to work this time, Sam. I'm on to you. Good luck." And with that, Dean was gone.

Gone.

Hot tears flowed down his face and Sam tried to run after his brother, beg Dean to stay, but his feet sank into the floor like it was quicksand. The harder he struggled to reach his big brother, the only family he had left, the deeper he sank. Usually he could count on Dean swooping in to save him, but not this time. Sam slipped in deeper, his chin barely above the floor and his eyes pinned to the door, hoping it would open.

"Dean," he whispered with one hand stretching toward the door as the pressure on his chest increased and he sunk deeper and deeper, enveloped in darkness.

* * *

If Sarah had been able to breathe, she would have been holding her breath. The pretty boy's eyes opened. She smiled cheerfully as her big brother held her back, no doubt worried the dark thing would come back.

A nurse walked up, smiled and talked to the pretty boy but he did not talk back. Sarah liked that. She waited until the nurse left and the pretty boy's eyes turned to her. He seemed a little scared.

"It's all right," Sarah whispered. "We're not like the others."

His eyes flicked up to Nathan. Sarah smiled at him. "Nathan is my big brother. We're working on a way to save you from the dark thing."

"Sshhh!" Nathan hushed her. "It'll hear you!"

The pretty boy licked his dry and cracked lips. "Where?" he croaked.

Nathan's hand pointed at the ceiling. "Upstairs."

The pretty boy looked confused before his head turned slightly from side to side. "Me. Where?" His voice was weak and breathless.

"Oh," Sarah said softly. "In the hospital."

His brow crinkled in confusion and it made him really cute. She hoped Nathan would let her keep him. Then his face smoothed out with a sigh and his eyelids drooped closed. Sarah looked up at her big brother. "He's going to be lots of fun, Nathan. You'll see."

Nathan shrugged. "Okay, Sarah-bear. Whatever you want."

She beamed. She had the best big brother. Ever.

* * *

"No, Sam," a sinister voice murmured in his ear, "that wasn't good enough. You have deeper fears, don't you Sam? You know Dean would never abandon you. You'd destroy his very soul first. Kill him slowly."

Darkness whirled around him again, fading out slowly. Sam rubbed his eyes, his vision blurred.

"Dude," Dean hissed. Sam turned toward the familiar, trusted voice. Dean sat behind the wheel of the Impala. "Are you all right? You're not trying to have a vision now, are you? You know how it wipes you out."

Sam stared hard at his brother. "What? No. Why would I try to have a vision?" he asked, his mind whirling in confusion. He wanted those damn things to go away! Why would Dean think he would induce one, even if he knew how?

Dean motioned to the roadside bar and grill on the other side of the parking lot. "We already know how this is going down, Sam. Seeing the future won't change it." One of Dean's hands gripped his shoulder. "I got your back, bro."

Sam nodded even though he had no idea what was going on. "I know, Dean." He met his brother's worried gaze. "And I got yours," he added sincerely.

Dean grinned and gave him a shove in the shoulder. "All right, then. Let's go." The grin dropped as he peered out the front windshield. "This is not going to be fun."

Sam's chest felt tight as he followed his big brother through the parking lot. At the door, Dean opened it and smoke billowed out in an ominous gray cloud. Sam was about to step through when Dean held out his arm. He ducked his head inside, one hand behind his back gripping his handgun. With a nod, Dean motioned for Sam to follow him.

Good, it wasn't like Sam knew what the hell they were doing here anyway. He kept his eyes peeled for potential danger, though. The way Dean was acting had him on high alert and all the hairs on the back of his neck prickled with danger. A few of the patrons eyed him suspiciously and Sam noticed at least two guys reposition concealed weapons when they passed.

"Two on the right," he murmured into Dean's ear.

Dean nodded curtly. "Saw 'em. You catch the dude at the bar?"

Sam's eyes darted to the other side. There were some rough looking customers, but the one wearing a suit with a short, military style haircut was the one watching them. "Suit?" he asked.

Dean nodded. "Spotted a couple more at the tables," he whispered back. "We'll have to find a back way out after this goes down."

Sam bit back the urge to ask after what went down. He knew better than to crowd his brother, no matter how freaked he felt at the moment. Dean paused in front of a door set in the back wall marked 'Private'. He met Sam's eyes.

"How?" he asked in a voice which wouldn't carry. "Old way or new way?"

Sam stared at his brother for a long moment, having no idea how he could answer that question.

Dean grunted as his eyes gave a little roll. "Dude, I'm not the one who can read minds here, you're gonna have to tell me. Do I use the gun or are you gonna, you know, with the psychic stuff?"

Oh, if the feeling Sam had before was a bad one, the one he had now was closer to the freaking end of the world bad. "No psychic stuff," he replied, knowing he wouldn't be able to pull off whatever Dean might expect.

Dean's best grin, the one usually reserved for the rare occasion Dad actually praised him, flashed wide and bright. "Thanks, Sam." The back of his hand slapped Sam's shoulder. "You won't regret it, I promise."

Dean's eyes sparkled with excitement and Sam's stomach couldn't possibly twist into any more knots. What in the hell was going on? And why couldn't he remember the reason they were here in the first place?

Dean shoved open the door and strode in like he owned the place. "Don't," he warned in a stern voice, one hand pointing to a man wearing a trucker's cap seated behind the desk.

"Bobby?" Sam asked as he felt a rush of relief.

But Bobby did not look terribly happy to see them. "Dean," he said slowly, "I told you not to get involved in this."

Dean glared back. "If Sam's involved, I'm involved," he snapped. Like lightening, Dean pulled the gun from his back waistband to point in the far corner. "Come on out. I hate to waste a clip."

Bobby grunted then nodded in the corner. "He's just here to watch my back, Dean. You remember what that was like. You used to do it for your daddy."

A low growl escaped Dean's throat. His other hand pulled out his Desert Eagle slowly, which he pointed at Bobby's chest. "Don't talk about him, old man." They heard a click as Dean thumbed both safeties off in unison. "You know how I feel about that."

"Dean," Bobby thundered, "you know damn well what he'd do if he were here."

"Yep." Dean's voice was flat and cold. "Nothing less than you would. Right, Bobby?"

Dean's gaze moved slowly from the man in the corner to Bobby.

"I suppose I'm going to mysteriously drop dead now?" Bobby asked with a sneer. "Or is a demon going to possess me? 'cause I got to tell you boys, I've forgotten more protection wards than you two ever heard of."

Dean's eyes narrowed on Bobby and a thin, cold smile spread. Sam knew what was coming next. He knew, but at the same time he couldn't stop it. His mouth and arms were frozen. He couldn't move or speak.

"That's just fine, because Sammy said I get to take care of you. Must be my birthday." The cold smile widened as Bobby shifted uneasily in his chair. "What kind of wards do you use for bullets, Bobby?"

The retort of Dean's guns shattered any illusions Sam still had about why they were there. Dean shoved them out of sight as he motioned for Sam to follow him. Dean threw open the window behind the desk. "Hurry up, Sam! Somebody must be calling the cops."

Sam barely thought as he hurried after his brother back to the Impala. Dean chortled gleefully as he threw the big car into drive and drove them the hell out of there.

"That went better than I thought!" Dean crowed when they hit open highway. Grinning like a maniac, he glanced over at Sam. "Sam? I did good, right? We finally got Bobby off your case."

Sam could only stare at his brother in absolute horror. He gave in to the demon's plans and, instead of killing him, Dean came along for the ride?

"Dude," Dean went on, "you knew it was him or us. It had to be done." Dean's right hand reached over to grip Sam's bicep. "Don't worry, Sam. I'll always be here to take care of you. And thanks." Dean's eyes twinkled. "I had no idea that would be so much fun."

"Not bad, Sammy-boy," the vicious voice hissed in the darkness. "But I have a feeling there are worse things in you, and we have plenty of time to dig them out. First I have to check on your precious brother. He's lots more fun than you are."

* * *

"God-damned speed trap towns," Bobby grumbled as he stuffed his copy of the speeding ticket into his glove compartment. It was rare when he wished he'd had Dean make one of those fake i.d.s for him. He'd worry about it later. Right now he had more to worry about, both of the boys' cell phones were rolling directly over to voice mail.

"If those boys aren't already in serious trouble," Bobby promised himself, "they will be when I get there."

He checked the time. Again. "Four more hours, unless I run into another damned speed trap."

* * *

Dean watched, horrified, as Sam wiped the back of his hand across his mouth, smearing blood over his cheek.

"What?" he breathed, unable to process the sight in front of him. How could Sam have gone so far off the reservation, so fast? Surely he would have noticed. There had to have been signs. It couldn't have just happened in the last hour. He left Sam here, researching, an hour ago.

"I said," Sam replied calmly, "I wanted to try the spell." He shrugged. "It didn't work."

"And?" Dean asked, looking over the carnage.

Sam chuckled. "I guess I have a temper these days. Don't worry, Dean. You're my brother, I won't hurt you."

Dean's heart constricted in his chest. His gun was heavy in his hand and he didn't remember pulling it.

_All for my amusement. How delicious._

Dean glanced around. "Did you hear that?" he asked slowly, suspiciously.

"Hear what?" Sam asked. "Hey, Dean, want to see something really cool I can do with eyeballs?"

Dean's attention dragged back to his brother covered with splattered blood and standing in the center of a library filled with corpses.

"We have to leave," he said, feeling as though they were words he had said before.

Sam pouted, his lower blood stained lip sticking out. Without the blood, Sam looked pretty much the same way he had when he was six. "But I don't want to, Dean."

Dean lifted his gun, his brain screaming at him that if Sam could do all this he wouldn't have a prayer of getting a shot off. He applied pressure to the trigger, enough so the slightest twinge should send a bullet into Sam's brain.

"Oh, Dean," Sam's pout turned into a wicked smile. "I know you would never-"

Dean pulled the trigger, watched the small red hole appear in Sam's forehead. A red shower flew out from the back of Sam's head before a thin trickle of blood came from the hole and trekked down between his eyes. Dean lowered his gun slightly and pulled the trigger twice more, shooting Sam in the heart. Sam's body barely moved as it absorbed the bullets. His little brother dropped to his knees, his face blank with shock, before falling to the floor.

Hot tears streamed from his eyes down his cheeks. Word was Dean Winchester never cried. Yeah, well, in his world Sam wasn't evil and wouldn't die. So much for any of those. He pressed the smoking barrel of his gun under his chin, almost relieved to feel the hot metal burning his skin. In a few seconds it would all be over for him, too. All the years of self-sacrifice, following orders, protecting Sammy. What had it been for? For this? For all these dead bodies? He pressed his finger against the trigger, but his gun would not fire.

Confused, Dean jabbed it up into his flesh again and pulled the trigger. Still nothing. Dean pointed it at Sam's cooling body. A bullet pierced Sam's arm. Once again he pressed it under his chin and once again it would not fire. Someone – or something – wanted him to suffer through Sam's death. No easy outs for Dean Winchester. How frigging typical.

Sirens sounded in the distance. Dean grinned through his tears. There was more than one way to commit suicide. He checked his clip, it was still half full. So was his proverbial glass of water. Dean moved to stand just inside the front door. Police cars screeched to a halt maybe twenty feet from the door. Perfect. Throwing the door open, Dean walked out slowly with his gun raised. He shot at the cars with calm precision. Each round fired by the cops hit some part of his body, the pain blissfully searing in intensity.

* * *

"What's wrong?" Brett demanded as he watched Dean Smith's heartrate shoot up. The ER doctor, Todd Somebody, rushed to press a stethoscope to Dean's chest. "What's happening?"

"Shit," Todd snapped. "I think he's trying to go into arrest again." Todd jerked his head at Brett. "You're in the way." He turned to a nurse nearby. "Code Blue! Get me the adrenaline!"

She rushed off and an alarm sounded. Brett pressed back against the wall, hopefully out of the way. Shit. If Dean Smith didn't make it, it could look very bad for him, and the mail hadn't come today.


	6. Chapter 6: Pretty Good Pickings

**Chapter 6 - ****Pretty good pickings**

"It's all right," Sarah whispered. "We're not like the others."

"….heart rate's falling…"

Dean's eyes flickered up to Nathan, just as Sarah smiled down at him. "Nathan is my big brother. We're working on a way to save you from the dark thing."

"Sshhh!" Nathan hushed her. "It'll hear you!"

"…charging paddles…"

Nathan's eyes widened as he felt something in the air. Coming...it was coming...

He grabbed Sarah by the arm, and he moved upwards, through the ceiling, so fast everything was a blur. Sarah didn't complain; she didn't say a thing. She knew. She knew how close they'd come to being ripped to shreds.

Nathan didn't stop until they were on the roof. Sarah stood there, wide-eyed, shaking.

If if followed them he would shield Sarah with his body.

They stood there like that for several anxious moments. There was no other place they could go; the world beyond the boundaries of the hospital was off limits to them.

Nothing. They were safe. For now, at least.

Tears streaked down Sarah's face. Nathan pulled her to him, cradled her just like he did when she was younger, when they were both alive.

"I'm sorry, Sarah-bear," he whispered softly as her shoulders shook. He held onto her even tighter. "I'm sorry..."

* * *

_Such a talented boy. Now, that little scenario with Sam, in the library? I want to see it again._

Sam again with that bloody grin, the bodies lying torn and scattered all around in the library, and the fear that tightened the inside of Dean's gut, sharp and bitter cold. It was even worse the second time around.

Dean couldn't remember exactly what it was, but he remembered that voice.

That voice made his skin crawl. It was so damn sure of itself, greedy and hungry. Hungry for _him_. But he was damned if he was going to allow some fug to use him like that. He wasn't going to be its bitch.

He could save _himself_. The only way he knew how.

"A freakin' head shot," Dean yelled out to the cops as he stood on at the top of the library steps. "That's all I'm asking for here." He couldn't feel the bullets he'd already been hit with. Everything painful melted away, and he knew, _he knew_ that the clip in his gun was loaded again. The damn thing wanted to see all of this again, wanted to drag it out for as long as it could.

Dean pulled the trigger again and blew out the windshield of the nearest cruiser. The cop shielded by the open door on the other side of the cruiser ducked down. "Come on, you sonsabitches, is that so hard?"

Apparently, this time, it was.

One of the slugs came close, grazed the side of his neck. He'd have a wicked scar there, if this was real, and he lived to tell about it.

Not likely.

Suicide by cop wasn't as easy as it looked in the movies. Not the second time around, anyway. The cops were rattled; their aim was off. Dean placed each shot he had left deliberately, coolly. One shot took off the rear view mirror of another car.

He blew the red lights on the bubble rack of the second cruiser all to hell with his last shot.

Bullets cut the air all around him.

Missed.

_Damn_.

Dean actually opened his arms wide, thrust out his chest. _Here I am, you jackasses. How much easier am I gonna have to make this for you?_

He got a hail of bullets as an answer.

One slug ripped a hole in Dean's left shoulder, spun him halfway around. Another shattered his right hipbone. White hot pain spiked him, so bad it made him almost forget how to breathe, how to move. He was momentarily held up as bullets riddled his body from his chest to his ankles. When he hit the ground in a twisting sprawl of arms and legs he didn't even feel it.

Dean lay there, gasping.

His heart. His heart was slowing down.

_Please…please…_

"Clear!"

His back arched as the electric current surged through him, jerking his muscles. His fingers hooked into claws, tightened his grip on his gun. His eyes nearly bulged out of their sockets.

_God, this hurt like a bitch!_

Dean struggled to slow his heart, but it was no good. His heart stirred sluggishly.

"Clear!"

_Jesus. _Another jolt. His heart fairly galloped now, like a lazy carriage horse stung by the lash of a whip.

"…bp's up…he's responding…"

_No. No! Get the hell off me! Leave me alone, you bastards…_

_Oh, Dean? _the darkness purred.

He felt its heavy bootsteps in his skin through the concrete as he lay there. Loud, booming steps that rattled his jaw, shook him from head to toe. He couldn't move. He couldn't get away. It was an epic fail. Totally epic….

_Story of your life, isn't it, kiddo?_ The darkness shifted as it kneeled down next to Dean. The skin around John Winchester's hazel eyes crinkled with amusement. One hand affectionately brushed at Dean's forehead.

Dean bristled weakly at the touch. _Son of a bitch…you're not my Dad. You're not…_

_I'm really getting bored with all of this, you know? So you don't wanna play with me? All right. Fine._

_Kill me, you sonofabitch. Kill me!_

_I will. _The darkness fisted both hands in Dean's jacket, lifted him off his feet effortlessly, and held him there. Dean's arms hung limply by his sides. The cops and the cruisers parked at the bottom of the stairs shimmered, vanished into thin air.

_But I think you've forgotten something, Dean. Someone. _

_What? _

_Your brother. Your not so little brother Sammy._

_Sam's not here, you lying bastard._

_Yes. Yes he is. You really don't remember, do you?_

The images filled Dean's head with the force of an ice pick driven between his eyes.

"_Oh, man, am I glad to see you! Sammy, I take back everything I've ever said about you. Honest."_

"_You don't remember knocking me down?" Sam's bitchface came out as he looked around. They were in a padded cell. For real. Jesus. "Trying to protect me from demons?"_

It was true. Dean knew it in his gut, in his soul. _Sam was here_.

Dean grew still and quiet.

_You see?_ The John thing smiled, rolled its stolen eyes up to the bright afternoon sky above them. _You can go if you want, Dean. I can help you with that. You're no fun anymore. And if you're no fun, I don't need you around anymore. That means I get to play with Sam. He's a big boy, Dean. Younger than you. Strong. Not as interesting as you are, but he's still a keeper. Sam will be my companion for years, whether he wants to be or not._

Dean's defiant glare lasted all of eight seconds, and then his expression softened. There was resignation, and sadness. Disgust at himself for failing, but over everything, concern for Sam's welfare. The dark one's eyes blazed red as it drank in Dean's emotions greedily.

No surrender. Not yet, anyway.

_Cooperation always makes things run smoother. And taste better, don't you agree?_

"…heart rate's stabilizing, Doctor."

"You'll…" Dean swallowed thickly. "You'll leave Sam alone? Take whatever you need from me. Just me?" he said out loud, hoarsely. Despite the blood, the leather and the stubble, Dean looked vulnerable, almost horribly young and fragile.

"Of course," notJohn rumbled.

It was a lie, and they both knew it.

But there was a chance. A slim one. Get this fuck to concentrate on just him. Get him to leave Sam alone long enough. Sam could get away. He could leave this godforsaken place.

The fingers of Dean's right hand loosened. His gun dropped harmlessly to the bloody pavement.

The darkness smiled. And waited.

Dean nodded. Slowly. He wearily took in another breath, blinked as he stared the dark one in the eyes.

He surrendered, totally and completely. Not for himself. For Sam.

"Take_ me_ then, you sorry son of a bitch," Dean rumbled softly. "_Take me_."

* * *

"This is Dean Winchester," the voice drawled smoothly. "You've reached my voice mail. You know what to do."

_Damn!_ Bobby frowned and cut the connection, hit the speed dial button for Sam's cell.

"Hi, this is Sam Winchester. Leave a message and I'll get back to you as soon as I can ---"

Not good. Not good at all.

Bobby glanced in the rear view mirror as he pulled the Chevelle off the shoulder of the road. Those speed trap towns had worked his last nerve. He'd pulled over an hour before, re-mapped his route, kept to the back roads now. It was doable. Even with its dull blue paint job, the Chevelle was a speed trap magnet sometimes.

Bobby gripped the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles turned white. He tried to ignore the pit that formed in his stomach. It was small at first, getting bigger by the moment.

Hospitals were bad places, and not just for the obvious reasons, either. They were full of disoriented spirits, angry ones who'd lost their way, refused to move on. Sick and dying humans expended a lot of energy. The patients' families were usually angry and sorrowful. It was no wonder they attracted predators and scavengers. Pretty good pickings, all in one place.

Bobby had learned that fact of life the hard way when he first started the salvage yard. A couple of the vehicles he'd towed in first were wrecks from car accidents. There were fatalities.

The dead were restless, and they always made their presence known. Guiding them to their eternal rest was a tricky business, but Bobby got better at it.

He never really got_ used_ to it. Maybe that was a good thing.

Dean's head injury was worrisome. He was open now, wide open to anything that happened to wander by, anything that was out hunting for negative emotions, and Bobby knew that Sam wouldn't leave Dean in that place, not for any reason.

_Damn._

_

* * *

_Haschal White rocked back and forth as he hugged his knees. He hadn't been that fond of his life, to tell the truth. His death sucked, too. What were the odds?

He should have become a bus driver like his daddy wanted him too. Dad had connections in the Transportation union. It woulda been_ sweet_.

"They told us not to come here. Told us," Haschal grumbled darkly. His brother Ulysses rolled his eyes at him. They kept to the air ducts most days. More empty spaces. Less spooks.

Hah. _That_ was a damn laugh.

"Got to die from something," Ulysses said. "What, you wanted to live forever?" In that moment Haschal hated his twin brother even more, and he really didn't think that was possible.

Haschal rocked back and forth. Never mind that he could barely feel the metal surface underneath him. He'd just now gotten the hang of making himself solid. He was barely twenty years old and now he was dead forever, for cripes' sake. "All that crap about demon hunting. It'll be easy, you said. Don't have to research this place too much, you said."

Ulysses rolled his eyes again. "Oh, shut the hell up. We had the chance to cross over, and you didn't want to. That reaper girl was cute. What was her name? Tessa?"

"That reaper girl was a bitch."

"And so are you," Ulysses retorted. "I should get extra points for sticking with your stupid chicken ass." He looked around, frowning. They hadn't seen any of the other spirits for the last three weeks. Word was a new player was in town. An injured hunter with expanded sight and his brother, a failed boy king or some other stupid shit like that.

Haschal shook his head vigorously. "Oh hell no. I'm not goin' anywhere near those two."

"Get the hell outta my head. Those two _what_?"

"Those brothers. Winchester, I think Joannie said their names are."

"Winchester? Like the rifle? That's stupid. You mean Joannie, that biker chick? She's lying to you, bro'. She's a flake."

"Yeah. And she's a really dead flake now. Didn't you feel her screaming an hour ago? That dark thing killed her spirit. It killed us, remember?"

Ulysses scowled. "Yeah, but…it didn't wanna play with us. Said we were too boring."

"Your damn fault," Haschal growled darkly, and okay, that was _it._

Ulysses threw the first punch, and the fight was on after that. They rolled around in the air ducts like puppies. Neither one of them ever could fight worth a damn.

Nurse Judy Kelly called Maintenance about the bumping and scraping she kept hearing in the ceiling above the nurses' station, third floor, West Wing. Happened on a regular basis now, at least four or five times a week.

It was rats up there. She was sure of it.

* * *

He felt dead inside. Numb.

_This wasn't happening. Dear God, it wasn't…_

"I told you, Dean. Remember?" Sam sat on the bed next to his duffel.

His neatly packed duffel.

"I told you back in Chicago. About two years ago, before we ran into Meg, remember? When this is over, you have to let me go my own way."

Dean drew in a breath. Tried to ignore the way his chest hitched.

_Beautiful. That's my boy. _

Dean ignored the dark whisper inside his head.

"So that's it, huh?" Dean growled. "After everything we went through the last six months, since Dad died, all that talk about not wanting normal was just bullshit, huh?"

Sam blinked. "You can come with me, Dean."

The words wouldn't come. His knees locked. His throat closed up.

_No. Sammy, please. _

Sam stood up, looked down at Dean, and God, Dean fucking hated that, hated being looked at like he was some worthless freak, something only fit for a sideshow.

_Don't leave me. Don't. 'm a freak. I know that. Everyone who loves me, leaves me._

Dean's sharp ears heard the engine of the cab as it pulled up outside.

_Mom. _

He didn't flinch as the cab driver blew his horn, one sharp tap.

_Dad made that damn deal for me. He left. _

Didn't flinch as Sam picked up his duffel by the straps, and just stared at him for a moment.

_And now you. _Dean stood frozen. The moment was over soon enough.

_I can't take this. I can't._

"I'll let you know where I end up. Give me a call if you change your mind." Sam shrugged and managed not to brush against Dean on his way out. He didn't slam the door. There was _that_, at least.

Dean didn't remember stumbling over to the bed. Didn't remember curling up on his side. He stared blankly into space and he didn't even blink. His normally lively green eyes were glazed over with a pale reddish tint.

A single tear rolled out of his eye, trailed down his left cheekbone.

_My beautiful, beautiful boy, _something whispered roughly inside his head. It sounded like John. Dean didn't know. Didn't care.

He was alone, _really alone_, for the first damn time in his life.

The darkness fed, and it was the best meal it had in years.


	7. Chapter 7: Appetizers

Chapter 7: **Appetizers  
**

Bobby's nerves twanged like a blues grass band as he parked at the far end of the hospital parking lot. His steps were hurried, rushed, anxious as he made his way through the parked cars. The thought he should have parked closer for a fast getaway flashed through his mind, but he figured he was too damned old to run with two overgrown, obnoxious Winchesters in tow. If he had to, he'd take 'em out at gunpoint. Speaking of which...

Bobby paused to pat himself down. Damn it. He left his gun in the car and the shotgun was kind of obvious. Most likely he'd be arrested before he even found out any information. Nah, he was better off going in unarmed. Inside the most haunted hospital in the county. Yeah, Singer, brilliant. Bobby returned to the car to load up his pockets with salt, herbs and some silver wards and charms. Feeling more secure, Bobby rushed through the cars again to approach the front door. His experienced eye picked out flashes just at the edge of vision, where spirits became visible, sometimes even in daylight. Even in daylight, which showed just how bad of a place this was. This place might be worse than his contact said. Friggin' perfect.

At the front desk he demanded information on his nephews, having no idea what names they might be listed under here. Instead of giving the poor lady, probably a volunteer, a last name he shouted louder and louder until someone rushed out of the administrative offices to take him someplace less public. Good. Maybe he could get some damn answers now. Again he repeated, loud, that his nephews Dean and Sam were here someplace and Dean had been hit by car a few weeks back. Now Sam wasn't answering his cell and he feared the worst.

The administrator's eyes widened. "Did you say they were brothers?"

Bobby nodded, slow and deliberate.

"Do these brothers suffer from hallucinations?" the man asked slowly.

"I didn't catch your name," Bobby said in a low growl, not liking the sound of the way this conversation had turned.

"Sorry Mister Singer. I'm James Johnson," he said hurriedly. "We've been attempting to identify two young men in our psych ward. They had no proper identification on them and claim to be brothers. Might be your nephews."

Bobby leaned on the man's desk, towering over Johnson's smaller frame with a scowl on his face. "Did you say 'psych ward', Jimmy?"

Johnson leaned back in his chair. "My name is James," he said slowly, his irritation clear in his voice and the expression on his face. "Or Mister Johnson. Does mental illness run in the family, Mister Singer?"

Bobby felt a growl crawl up his throat. "No," he replied slowly. "But violence does, and I got a short temper, son. Where the hell are my nephews?" It wasn't a question. Not really. More of an order or a command. And if this moron knew what was good for 'im, he'd jump to.

* * *

Sam looked around with glazed eyes, half expecting to find himself in the Impala. Instead sterile whiteness greeted him. What was this? What was happening to him? And where the hell was Dean?

He had a strong feeling something was terribly, horribly wrong and it was because of him. Sam peered through the room feverishly, as though a clue to his brother's whereabouts might be lurking against the wall or hiding in a corner.

"He's not here, Sam." That voice. It was so sweet and innocent and...sexy.

Wide brownish-hazel eyes snapped to the source. Jess stood by his bed in her naughty nurse outfit. Sam couldn't help his grin, he really loved that costume. Hated Halloween, but the costume was awesome. They'd had some fun with it too, as he recalled.

"You bad boy," Jess chided through her smile. She used her soft, slender hands to smooth her skirt over her perfect hips. Sam's mouth was starting to water. Hell of a time for a wet dream, though.

His eyes flicked around his surroundings again. Padded white walls. Bed. Restraining straps. Aching ankles and forearms.

Sam's eyes narrowed on this vision of Jess. "What are you?" he demanded. "Because you're not Jess."

Her gorgeous blue eyes rolled. "Now, Sammy, is that any way to talk to me?"

"Sammy?" He snorted in disbelief. Whatever this thing was, it really didn't know who it was impersonating. "Jess never tried calling me Sammy. Not once. And as of right now, there's only one person alive who's allowed to call me that."

"Ah, yes." The smile he saw wasn't Jess'. When Jess smiled the sunshine was warmer and the light a little brighter. This smile caused a chill to permeate the room and goosebumps to race up his arms. "You mean Dean. Your wonderful, self-sacrificing big brother." A cold chuckle followed. "I think he'd do anything for you. Lucky for me."

All the air in his chest froze as Sam stared at the beautiful and terrifying vision standing next to him. He wanted to ask what and why and where was Dean, but he couldn't. All he could do was stare in his horror. What was this thing doing to Dean? The past three weeks had been a living nightmare of worry and searching and hunting for his brother. Sam was not about to just give up. Not when he had had his brother back, in the same frigging room, so recently.

At least, he hoped that had been recently. With all the drugs the moron doctor had been injecting into his I.V., Sam couldn't be sure.

He forced the air in his lungs to move, the muscles in his chest to allow speech. "What are you?" he asked again, but this time his voice was strained and breathless.

Jess leaned over him to trail a brightly painted fingernail down the center of his chest. "You shouldn't be worried about what I am, Sammy. You should be worried about what's happening with your brother. He was being a bad boy, but he's behaving much better now."

Sam forced his dry mouth to swallow. "H-how?"

She smiled the same cold grin as her hand spread across his chest and rested there. "I only came for this nice little snack," she told him, rubbing against his chest briefly as her eyes closed.

"Mmmmm...tasty."

When her deep-sea blue eyes opened a reddish tint slipped down, like a visor. Even the whites of her eyes had a red glow. "I can see having both of you around will be so much fun. Well, I suppose I should check to be sure Dean's heart is still beating." She frowned and it was familiar, as though he had seen the frown before. "He can be stubborn."

Jess dissolved into a whirl of darkness which circled tightly, faster and tighter, until it disappeared.

"I guess it's too much to ask that it killed itself," Sam mumbled, allowing his head to fall back. He stared unblinking up at the ceiling. "We are so screwed."

* * *

Despair. Utter desolation. Dad was dead. Sam gone. Jim dead. Caleb dead. One by one he crossed the names of people who were family and like family off his mental list. Bobby chased him and Dad off with a shotgun. Gone.

Bobby?

Through watery eyes, Dean could see an image, maybe a memory, of Bobby bringing him a cup of coffee in the salvage yard. The old man had a concerned look on his face, though he never asked if Dean was all right. It seemed as if Bobby knew he'd never be all right again.

_Be a good boy, Dean_, the dark voice hissed. _Think about how they've all left you. You're all alone._

Alone. They were all gone. Sooner or later, everyone left him. Cassie. She thought he was crazy. Even after she called for help, she said there was no way they could ever be serious again. That was assuming they ever were. The longest, most serious relationship he'd ever had lasted a whole two weeks.

Pathetic.

He was too pathetic to live. Dean curled in on himself, hugging his knees to his chest. A steady beat sounded in his head. Slowly Dean lifted his head to drop it on the mattress in time to the beat in his skull. It was hard, too much effort. He rolled off the bed to sit on the floor and lean against the wall. This was much better. Now he could bang his head all he wanted without much effort.

The walls in here should be white, Dean thought. It would look better in white. The wall would feel better if it were padded. Not that he wanted it to feel better. No. He'd prefer a nice spike to slam his head against.

_Dean_, the voice was back, _don't make me pay Sammy another visit._

Pressing his forehead against his knees, Dean finally allowed the horrid, dreaded tears to flow. Worthless. If he died right here, right now, a perfect stranger might notice when he hadn't checked out or started to smell, whichever came first.

"Dean?"

It wasn't the dreaded, cold, sinister voice. This one was warm and familiar, the tones washing away the cold self-pity.

"C'mon, boy. Open your damn eyes. Don't you go tryin' to die on me now."

Dean lifted his head to look around, see if it was real or his imagination playing a nasty trick on him.

Dad sat on the edge of the bed. "Dean. One last order. Just one." He motioned to the closed door. "Sam's a sitting duck now, you know that. The demon's been waiting for him to be alone, so he can work on Sam, turn him."

Unbidden tears flooded his cheeks again. "I can follow him," he said and his voice cracked with uncertainty. "I can still try."

Dad glared. "Without Sam knowing? He's better at this game than you are, boy. You know that. If Sam doesn't want to be found, he won't be. You couldn't find him the last time he ditched you, could you?"

Dean shook his head before turning to knocking it in a steady beat against the wall. The nice solid wall. Maybe if he hit it hard enough the piece he was missing to be a real human being, one someone could give a damn about, might fall into place.

"And you know Sam doesn't care, otherwise he wouldn't have left you here," Dad told him, like he didn't already know that.

"Damn it." There was a heavy sigh. Once again Dean paused to seek out the source of the good voice, the one he wanted to hear. "All right, boy. I guess I'll wait. The longer you keep me waitin', though, the longer it'll take for me to check on that brother of yours."

"Dean." His eyes snapped back to Dad whose eyes had an odd reddish tint, making him appear angrier and more severe than usual. But, well, Dad was dead. And most likely in Hell. So Dean couldn't really blame him for being pissed. "You stay right here. That's an order."

A warm sensation enveloped his right hand. Dean looked down at it, curious. What could cause this? The warmth squeezed, an invisible force holding tight to him. Dean curled his right hand, shocked to find he could not make a fist because there was resistance.

"That's it boy," the warm voice told him. "Come on."

His right hand was squeezed tighter. Dean held on, unable to let go despite the nasty look coming from dead-Dad.

"I'll visit Sam!" dead-Dad threatened, eyes flaring a deep blood red. Definitely not Dad.

Dean took a deep breath as he leveled a glare on notDad. "Not if Bobby beats you there."

He pressed his eyes closed and breathed deep and long. When he tried to force his eyes open, it was more difficult this time. Hundred pound weights clung to his lashes, keeping them closed.

"Come on, Dean," Bobby's voice was warm and rough and so freaking strong, perfect. Perfect for helping even him. "Wake up."

Sam. He had to warn Bobby about the danger to Sam. It took every ounce of strength he had left, but Dean managed to pry his eyes partially open. Just enough to see a blurry version of Bobby hovering close enough to smell coffee and exhaust fumes. He must've driven the Chevelle. It needed a new exhaust. Bobby knew better! Sam first, chew Bobby out later.

"Sam," Dean tried to say, but he wasn't sure if he made a noise.

"Easy, Dean," Bobby said. Now there was pressure on both his shoulders. "I peeked in on him before coming to see you. He's tied down like a distressed damsel on a railroad track, but he's fine."

Dean shook his head, though he felt nothing but exhaustion permeating his entire body. "It's coming for him. Hurry." He tried to push Bobby away.

"Now?" Bobby whispered, the muscles in his face drawing tight.

"Hurry," Dean urged.

Bobby hesitated and Dean feared he might not go after all. "I'll be back," he promised. He turned to face Dean as he left the area, pointing a meaty hand at him. "Don't you dare fall asleep, you hear?"

Dean had no idea if this was an order he could follow, but he was damn sure going to try.

* * *

Sam glared at the ceiling as if it were the enemy. If he could just get his hands on the moron doctor who stuffed him in here...

It wasn't really that he didn't understand why he was strapped down to this table, because he understood perfectly. The doctor had some idea of what he and Dean were capable of, no doubt from Dean's behavior before Sam finally received the phone call. He wished the doctor had allowed Dean to call, Sam might have been able to prepare for this place. How many spirits were here? They must have been driving Dean crazy.

"Oh, Sammy..." The frigging nasty voice was back! Sam's body tensed as he wondered what it had done to his brother. "Your turn."

The voice came from the corner of the room. Sam twisted as far as his bonds would allow for a better view. There was a slight shadow in the corner, but nothing else. He waited, staring at the spot. The shadow grew darker and the room cold. A shiver ran through him as a dark form stepped out of the corner. Dad glared at him, disappointed and disapproving.

Sam's mouth went dry. Oh, crap. A tiny voice in the back of his head, the one which sounded like Dean, yelled and screamed at him that this was a trick. It didn't help the way his heart was racing in his chest or the guilt twisting in his gut.

There was a sharp scraping noise as Dad dragged a chair out of the shadow to sit on, right next to Sam's bed. He leaned back, arms crossed over his chest with a cold glare. "Let's talk about your brother."

"How is he?" Sam demanded. "Is Dean all right?"

Dad snorted as his face drew down into a frown. "What do you care? You're the one who wanted out of this family. Oh, wait, that's right..." One eyebrow raised in Dad's cold, calculating expression. "You need him, don't you? To get your little revenge?"

Sam glared hotly, the truth of the statement hitting uncomfortably close. "He's my family!" he protested. Then, in a smaller voice, "Dean's all I have left."

Dad's eyes rolled. "Oh, and you really know how to show it too, don't you? You abandoned the family for what? College?" His cold voice dripped with sarcasm. "Did you call big brother even once? To let him know you made it alive?"

Wracked with guilt and thoughts he had not allowed himself to dwell on in years, Sam slowly shook his head.

"Well," Dad said slowly, "that explains a lot. And recently, when you sneaked off in the middle of the night. Did you really think it wouldn't bother him at all? I guess Dean isn't supposed to have feelings, huh?"

"Open this god-damned door!" a voice raged from the edge of his hearing. Confused, Sam rolled his head toward the door.

"Sam!" Dad snapped. "I asked you a question! Answer it!"

There was movement through the little window. Sam caught a glimpse of a stained and beat-up trucker's cap. No. It couldn't be.

"Then find the right key, before I go fetch my shotgun!"

Bobby? Could it really be Bobby? What was he doing here?

A broad strong hand, cold as ice, turned his face away from the door to stare up into dark soulless eyes with a faint red glow. "I said answer me, Sammy."

Sam grit his teeth as he mustered a glare. "And I told you before, there's only one person alive allowed to call me that. You're not even alive."

The sneer wasn't Dad's, it twisted the trusted face until it was barely recognizable. "And you don't treat him any better than your father did, do you? As a matter of fact, I'm pretty sure dear ol' dad did a better job. At least he threw Dean a bone occasionally, telling him he wasn't completely worthless. But you? Any time you can't make Dean do exactly what you want, you just take off. I guess because you're just so much better than he is."

The words stabbed, deeper than any knife. Wet heat streaked from his eyes down the sides of his face, some pooling in his ear while the rest soaked his hair. Sam wasn't better than Dean. He knew how true it was, how far he needed to improve just to attempt to measure up to his family's standards. Honestly, Sam had wondered why Dean stuck with him, why he hadn't been abandoned in the middle of the night. There was a reason he took on as much of the research as he could, trying to make himself indispensable to his brother.

"Dean volunteered to play with me, just to keep little brother safe," notDad drawled slowly. "Maybe I should tell him how you don't deserve it, huh? How you're just using him to get what you want?"

Sam clenched his jaw, unable to stop the flow of tears. He couldn't even tell this frigging thing to shut the hell up.

"And then what?" it continued. "You'll leave him again, won't you?"

It kicked back, looking so much like Dad with its arms crossed over its chest and one foot propped up on the bed. It waved a hand towards the door. Sam could hear cussing in Bobby's worried voice from just a few feet away.

"Just go on back to school and find a new blond chick," it said. "After all, Dean has to let you go once you've killed the demon, right? Wasn't that the agreement?"

Yes, he'd said it, he had. Sam couldn't deny it. But that was...before.

"I won't," Sam whispered, his conviction growing.

"Sure you will." notDad stood with this irritating annoying grin. "Because if you don't, you'll destroy everything good about him, everything you admire." It gave Sam one of Dad's conspiratorial winks. "I'll be back, Sammy."

The door burst open, Bobby rushing into the room. "Sam!" He was at Sam's side in two broad steps. "You all right, boy?"

"I-it's after Dean," Sam told him.

Bobby produced a knife from his pocket. "I know it," he grunted. "But I can't be in two places at once, so you're comin' with me."

"This patient can not be removed from the room," a man in a white lab coat insisted from behind Bobby.

"And I done told you," Bobby said as he worked swiftly on Sam's bonds, "I got a shotgun in the car."

"Hurry," Sam urged. "Dean's in danger." He couldn't lose Dean too. He couldn't.


	8. Chapter 8: Crystal Clarity

_**Chapter 8 – Crystal Clarity**_

The old hunter was educated. An extremely dangerous predator.

The darkness could smell it on him, all around him, the lore and methods on how to kill all manner of supernatural beings, more than many hunters would ever experience in their lifetimes. The fact that the man was old was a testament to how lethal he was. This one hunted out of rage and grief at first, but now methodically, with determination and purpose. Unlike some of its kin, the dark thing was wise enough to look beyond the way a human looked. Many of its brothers and sisters hadn't lived to acquire that wisdom.

The two young ones were still pups compared to the old human. They knew just enough to make themselves dangerous, but they would come into their own soon enough.

It didn't matter. None of it did. The darkness still had Dean, the eldest.

He was the strongest and the weakest. A child of light and dark, a wonderful blend of human contradictions. The boy didn't even realize what he had inside him, and that head injury opened him up even more. And to top it all over, Dean Winchester gave himself freely, all for the love of his demon tainted brother.

Free will was a precious thing. Heaven and Hell knew that.

Things had changed now. The dark thing was flexible, if nothing else. It knew when to change, could always recognize the time and the need.

The time was _now_.

* * *

Dean rocked forward and back. It was habit now, something his body did automatically.

Something crazy people did.

It was all right. It was okay. Bobby was with Sam now. Sam would be fine.

Five minutes of sleep. That's all he wanted. _Needed._ Five minutes of restful sleep, pitch black, soft and deep, no screaming in his head, no pain, no blood, no fear. He was so damned tired.

He couldn't remember when he didn't have a headache, didn't feel that damn pressure behind his eyes. Must've been over three weeks ago.

Sure. Yeah. Three weeks ago, when he was a freak, but not _this_ much of a freak.

"Don't you fall asleep," Bobby told him before he left to find Sam.

Easier said than done.

Dean stared at the opposite wall, his green eyes dull and slightly out of focus. Nobody else could even begin to know how this crap felt, and Dean couldn't even put it into words. _Tired_ didn't begin to cover this. _Screwed up_ didn't either. Bobby didn't get it. Nobody did or could, not even Sam.

Sam only had visions, courtesy of that yellow-eyed bastard. This was _different_.

This was _worse_. Dean didn't feel like himself anymore. The head injury from the accident was bad enough, but opening himself up like that, making himself this thing's bitch…

Dean took a deep breath that didn't do jack to clear his throbbing head. It was too much effort to try to stay awake. He began to drift off.

And he couldn't stop himself.

They were up near Cincinnati, Ohio about a year ago, hunting a khmoch that was stalking a family of second generation Cambodian refugees. Dean shielded the children with his body and got thrown into a wall for his trouble. Dean got right back up and ganked the bastard with a sharpened stake made of hawthorn wood, and afterwards he realized his left arm was broken.

Hours later Sam and Dean sat in the ER at Saint Augustine's Hospital. Dean sat hunched over in that damn uncomfortable plastic chair, cradling his broken arm. According to the hospital staff, a broken bone wasn't that high a priority (_pleasehaveaseat,we'llgettoyoulater_), and Dean briefly considered going out on the parking lot and shooting himself just to see if he could get treated quicker.

They way his luck was running, the gun would probably jam on him.

"You put everyone else first on when you're on a hunt. Why the hell do you do that to yourself, Dean?" Sam had asked him, a mixture of wonder and, yeah, disgust in his voice. It was going to be a long night.

"No, I don't."

"Yeah, you do," Sam said pointedly. "This isn't the first time I've seen you do it."

"It's the job," Dean's tone was too flat, too quiet. He breathed through his nose, through another throb of pain. "Comes with the territory, Sam."

Sam huffed in disbelief. "No, it doesn't. You can't do the job if you're injured or dead, Dean."

Dean shook his head, schooled his features into that curiously blank look he always got when he closed himself off to Sam. Sam's mouth stretched into that tight thin line as he took the hint. Sam's bitchface didn't affect Dean that night. It was a blessed relief when his shoulder was finally set and the doc gave him a shot for the pain.

Dean felt like kissing Doctor Adams. Only problem with that was, Doctor Adams was a little old grey-haired dude, older than Dad.

Sam didn't get it. No kid should have to see his mother pale and bleeding on the ceiling, like four year old Dean had. No kid should have to run with his baby brother in his arms, run with the metallic taste of fear searing his mouth, all the way down into his gut, mixed with the smell of his mother's burning flesh.

Sam didn't get it. Dean was _glad_ he didn't get it.

Dean drifted away even further.

Dean was sixteen years old the first time he met Elias Harper. A fellow hunter, one of Dad's Marine buddies from 'Nam. It was a spring day. Dean remembered that. Remembered the way the honeysuckle nearby smelled when the wind picked up. The sky overhead was clear, a heart-breaking bright blue that stretched from horizon to horizon.

Dean also remembered that he couldn't stand the man. It was hate at first sight.

Dad couldn't see it. John was so happy to have one of his fellow Devil Dogs around. He was so relaxed and happy that John looked ten years younger. They were staying at Harper's place in Hetland, Virginia for a few days. They weren't on a hunt, but Dean couldn't explain why his insides tightened up when he first laid eyes on Harper. That round moon face and those mild brown eyes shouldn't have raised any alarm bells inside Dean, but they did.

Inside, Dean's nerves were screaming.

He didn't like the way Harper looked at him, up and down. Those eyes lingered on Dean's face, his eyes and his mouth, and then slid slowly down his body, taking inventory. Dean could almost feel the man's fingers sliding on his skin, his warm breath in Dean's ear.

Harper didn't look that way at Sam. John didn't see it, didn't sense anything.

_The dude's one of Dad's friends,_ Dean thought. _Maybe I'm just seeing stuff that isn't really there._

He hadn't been feeling well lately, just recovered from the flu, and he was still a little dizzy and wobbly. Dean didn't trust himself.

And Dad looked so damned happy around the dude, Dean just decided to drop it.

The next morning Sam was asleep upstairs in that spare room. John had gone to town for supplies. Dean wasn't ordinarily a morning person, but for some reason he felt like he had to get up. He was nervous, anxious. Something was in the air. Something was going to happen. He could feel it.

Whatever this was, Dean wanted it to happen _away_ from Sam, so he got up, put his clothes on, and went for a walk.

Harper followed Dean out of the house.

Dean walked into the barn. Yeah, maybe cutting himself off from open space wasn't such a hot idea, but if he couldn't run, he was going to make damn sure Harper couldn't either.

Harper closed the doors behind him. He licked his lips, asked Dean a question, and he seemed pretty sure that Dean's answer would be "Yes."

Dean broke Harper's nose with one quick, controlled strike of his closed fist.

By the time John came back, Harper packed his broken, bleeding nose with cotton. "Tripped over a rake out in the barn, Winchester." Harper had this weak grin on his face, but the smile never reached his eyes. John quirked an eyebrow at him.

Harper favored his right side. Seems like he'd broken a couple of ribs when he hit the ground. And he limped too. Sprained ankle.

John might have suspected. Dean couldn't tell. They left later on that same day. Dean put Harper's place in the rearview mirror as they drove off, and he didn't relax until he couldn't see the damn place anymore.

Dean could take care of himself and Sam. Didn't have to go running to Daddy like a little bitch, whining and fearful. Dean could deal, and he dealt with it all the damn time. It was all the same. Over and over again. He did what he could for his family. Giving himself to this damn thing was no different. No big deal.

Dean came back to himself with a grunt and a jerk. He stared straight ahead, at the wall.

The wall flickered, ran with colors, mostly black and grey and red that blended into each other, at first. The scene sharpened into crystal clarity.

It was Hell. Dean could smell it. Sulfur in the air, sharp and bright. Human decomp, rotting meat, bile, all those smells that Dean took for granted in the family business.

Sweet smelling smoke wafted across the scene. Flesh burning.

Dean knew that smell too.

The screams of the damned were muted, as if the sound was turned down. That was the only thing Dean was grateful for. He squinted at the wall. Something was moving around in there. Something,_ someone_ moved with a sureness and a confidence that Dean recognized.

Dean's sight cleared to crystal clarity, and what he saw froze him in place.

John Winchester stood in front of a wooden table. There were instruments on the table, knives, cutting tools and blades of every shape and size.

There were two other people in the room. One was tall and pale, black-eyed. A demon. It smiled to itself as John moved around the table, inspecting and selecting his tools. That smile got even wider when John picked up a curved knife and stepped over to the woman strapped to the rack. She was older than Dean, about thirty, with short brown hair. Her mouth was covered with a gag of what looked like thin brown rubber. Her blue eyes widened, and she shook her head back and forth.

_No. Please, no…_

John removed the gag and sliced her tongue off in one quick flick of his wrist.

Dean blinked.

Dean stared, and he couldn't turn away.

The bed behind him dipped a little as the darkness settled down beside him. It looked like John now, dressed entirely in black, the way John looked up in Chicago, before Meg and her Daevas attacked.

A familiar hand fell heavily onto his right shoulder, broad fingers dug into his skin.

Dean didn't even flinch.

"You always start without me," the dark one murmured. "That Harper wasn't the first one to try to claim you, was he, Dean?"

Dean didn't answer.

The darkness nodded towards the scene in front of them. "I thought you might want to see this. We all do what we can to get along. There's no shame in it. You gave yourself to me, so I wouldn't go after Sam. John adapted to Hell. He knew you and Sam weren't coming for him. He didn't want you to, Dean. He kept you safe, the same way you made sure Sam was safe."

They sat there in silence, watched as John Winchester walked around the rack with that bloody curved knife of his. John went about the business of torture with the same singlemindedness he'd shown while hunting. He skinned the woman on the rack with the knife, inch by inch.

There was no heat, no anger behind it. John was all business.

Dean sighed, a terrible, weary sound. He closed his eyes and bowed his head. notJohn's fingers dug into his flesh even deeper.

"You see, Dean? Everyone does it. Even John. Sam was using you all along. He knows that you're afraid of him leaving you. He hangs it over your head, uses it against you every single day."

The grip on Dean's shoulder eased. "Wouldn't you like to be the one who leaves, for once? Wouldn't you like to be the one who goes out the door first?"

Dean opened his eyes, raised his head just as the scene in front of him gradually faded away into nothingness, leaving only a wall covered with thick white padding.

"You're just…you're just tryin' to confuse me. Won't welsh on the deal," Dean said out loud, hoarsely. "I won't."

"I know you won't," the darkness smiled. The tip of its forked tongue came out, licked at those stolen lips.

"Meant what I said," Dean whispered roughly. "You take me. Leave Sam and Bobby alone."

"So be it," the darkness whispered.

The dark one was suddenly there, all around Dean, pressing into him tightly. notJohn's face grew hazy, the tip of his nose grazing the thin skin of Dean's throat. Hot breath scorched the golden hairs on Dean's freckled skin. "You're beautiful, do you know that?" it whispered. "All that pain and rage, Perfect."

It was flesh and it was smoke at the same time. Dean didn't care.

Dean breathed it in. His chest hitched painfully, and his throat burned, dry and hot as desert sand.

* * *

"Easy, Sam, easy." It was like walking a dog. A huge, unruly dog. Bobby was reminded even more of the age and size difference as he tried to keep up with Sam. Didn't matter that Sam was still very wobbly on his feet. He lunged forward down the hall, dragging Bobby along with him.

"This way. Dean's room…this way…" Sam gasped, pale and shaking. If it hadn't been for Bobby holding him up, Sam wouldn't have made it this far.

One of the orderlies followed close behind. He didn't have much interest in trying to stop them, especially after he saw how handy Bobby was with that knife when he cut Sam's restraints. They staggered past the nurses' station and Bobby saw the head nurse's eyes narrow suspiciously as they passed. Her hand slid over to the phone on her desk.

Damn. She was calling security. They'd have more company arriving soon enough.

And like all things in life, suddenly none of that mattered.

Dean Winchester stepped out into the hallway two doors down, barefoot, wearing that white t shirt and pale blue scrub pants Bobby had seen him wearing last. His back was turned to Sam and Bobby. Dean cocked his head slightly to one side as he peered down the opposite end of the hallway, as though he was looking for somebody.

Sam stopped short, swaying on his feet. "Dean!" the younger man called out.

Dean turned to face Sam and Bobby. He looked alert, wide awake. His green eyes were bright. He looked healthy, better than he'd looked before the accident, before he disappeared.

Dean winked. The expression was pure Dean. What happened next, wasn't.

"Said I'd be back, Sammy."

Sam stopped short. Dean's voice was lower, deeper than it had a right to be.

Dean's eye sockets flooded with bright ruby red light.


	9. Chapter 9: Sprung

Chapter Nine: **Sprung**

Sam reached out until he managed to grab Bobby. Was he seeing the same thing as Sam? Was he seeing this, his worst freaking nightmare?

"Later, Sam." Dean smirked broadly, eyes glowing bright with that hellish red tint.

"S-sam?" Bobby asked in a shaky voice.

"I see it," Sam replied softly. Louder, for his brother to hear, he said, "Dean! You're not yourself. Stay here, where I can help you."

The red in Dean's eyes glowed brighter, blotting out the green. God, how Sam missed the green right now.

"I don't think so, Sammy." Dean turned his back and sprinted down the hall, towards the elevator. At the far end the elevator doors opened, security guards spilling out.

"That was quick," Bobby breathed in his ear.

Sam didn't have a chance to nod in agreement, knowing these guys were here because of him. They couldn't know about Dean yet. He watched in horrified stupefaction as Dean, or whatever was possessing Dean, plowed right into the middle of the guards. With stunning accuracy, Dean took each one down with a blow here or there, a couple of skulls cracked together, at least two broken arms and a concussion. The guards laid in a heap at his bare feet. Dean's head turned back to look at them again.

"For old time's sake," he said in a deep voice, sounding more like Dad than himself. He raced away again, passing the elevator for a sharp left and disappearing around the corner.

Sam heard the sound of a door slamming. He tried to follow, but the adrenaline which had carried him this far left him feeling weak and drained. Sam clutched the wall as he motioned for Bobby to follow Dean, already sure they had lost him. Bobby huffed heavily as he rushed around the corner. When he returned, his face was downcast and he refused to look Sam in the eye.

"Stairwell," Sam guessed. Bobby only nodded. Sam chewed his lower lip for a moment, choosing their best course of action. "Get me out of here, Bobby."

They made it to the first floor, all the way to the front doors before the second wave of security caught up with them. Bobby was angrier than Sam had ever seen, yelling and cussing as the guards tried to separate them. That was about the time something inside Sam snapped. When he blinked again, the guards were all on the ground and Bobby had a stunned look on his face.

"Let's go," Sam snapped, needing to regain the older man's attention. Bobby nodded quickly. Sam threw an arm over Bobby's shoulders to steady himself, ignoring how the shoulders tensed at his touch.

* * *

The darkness laughed, the sound filling his human ears. Ah, the joys of freedom! How long had it been there? Too weak to move on, too proud to possess the mindless. So few had what it required to feed, to replenish its essence. Dean, perfect, beautiful Dean, had boundless fear and sorrow. He was so perfect. At first it had suspected a trick or a trap, he seemed too perfect. It had watched and waited. It was old, one of the first of its kind. It could be patient. After the brother arrived, it had realized this was no trap, it was opportunity.

It had seized Dean then as its property, warning the weak spirits which inhabited the hospital of its prize. Some of the others had tried to continue to play with Dean, because he amused them. Not now.

It paused in the area full of cars to peer in a side mirror. Yes, it wore Dean's face well, the only telltale sign of their merging the red glow of Dean's eyes. Dean ought to look good in sunglasses. That should work. They walked through the cars, Dean's eyes scanning the lot with purpose, for something specific. Then they saw it.

A black gleam reflected the setting sun. Chrome bumper and mirrors. Broad bold fenders with sleek lines. Sex on wheels. It smiled, Dean's face radiating their joy. The doors unlocked at their approach and the driver's door opened. From Dean's mind it learned of the movie Christine, the plot of a possessed car taking over the life and soul of a teenager racing through their minds. They laughed over the shared memory as the engine roared to life.

As Dean pulled out of the parking lot heading for the open road, the darkness settled in comfortably under his skin. It sought out all the crevasses and deep dark pits for hiding and playing, mapping Dean's darkest fears and thoughts for later exploration. For now, however, it enjoyed the wind whipping through their hair and striking their face. One of Dean's hands raised a pair of sunglasses to settle on their face, obscuring the red tint in their eyes.

When they had driven several miles, Dean pulled the car over. It allowed this, wondering what the human wished to do with his new found freedom. He walked to the trunk, which popped open at their approach.

"I could get used to this," Dean mumbled. He reached in to rummage in a green bag. It had not considered their clothing an issue, until now. They appeared to be escapees from the hospital. First Dean used a large hunting knife to remove the bright orange band from his wrist. Next he stripped down to his underwear, right there on the side of the road. After tossing the dreaded hospital garb in the ditch, he dressed in jeans and a t-shirt. A handgun went in his back waistband.

The weapon was unnecessary.

"Feel naked," Dean replied casually, adding a strap-on knife to his ankle. "We can't go walking around naked."

Perhaps not, the darkness conceded. Ah, the delicious state of constant vigilance and fear which this boy lived in. Several more weapons adorned his body before they were through and the trunk closed. Now Dean pulled a well worn leather jacket from the back seat. It effectively concealed most of his weaponry. Next the spare pair of boots, heavily scuffed and well worn, were pulled on their feet.

Yes, this one was perfect.

He slipped back behind the wheel, caressing it slowly. Dean looked in the rearview, sliding the sunglasses down until the redness of his eyes could be seen. "Where to?" he asked their reflection.

_Drive_, it told him. _Just drive_.

* * *

Bobby drove to outside of town before searching for a motel. No doubt the local cops would have been alerted by now. He found a dump of a place where they had no business asking nosy questions. Bobby slid cash across the counter, and an extra twenty followed it. The fella behind the counter pocketed the cash before handing over an actual door key.

Huh. A real key, not one of those fancy card things almost all of these places used now. Bobby thanked the man with a brush against the bill of his cap before heading back out the door.

Sam was still in the car, staring dully out the window. Bobby drove them around to the backside, where the Chevelle wouldn't be spotted from the street. Key in hand, he opened the passenger door for Sam. He hustled the boy out and into the room.

"You'll need some clothes," Bobby told him, mainly to hear something other than Sam breathing. "I got an extra shotgun in the car."

"What could do that?" Sam asked, his eyes unfocused as he stared across the room. "I never heard of a spirit that could change someone's eye color like that."

Bobby chewed his lower lip for a moment, wondering if he should voice his suspicions. "What size do you wear?" he asked instead. "I need to buy ya some clothes."

"Doesn't matter," Sam said with a sigh as he stretched out on the bed. His eyes drifted closed. "Nothing does."

Bobby frowned at the boy falling asleep. He shook his head as he left on his errands. Sam needed clothes and they both needed food. The kid would be more himself once the drugs wore off, Bobby assured himself. And then they'd be able to track Dean.

* * *

Hard, cold green eyes glared at him. "I can't believe you'd treat me like Dad did, Sam." The door slammed behind Dean's back.

A broad smile and laugh as Dean stood over Bobby's cooling body. "That was more fun than I thought it'd be. Thanks, Sam!"

Dean glanced back over his shoulder to toss him a wink with a glowing red eye. "That was for old time's sake." His big brother sprinted away. Away from him.

Sam sat straight up, his shirt clinging to his body with cold sweat and his wide eyes taking in his surroundings. He had expected to find himself in a white room, but this place looked like some roadside dump, the kind of place Dad used to leave him and Dean in for weeks at a time. Gasping for air, Sam swung his feet out of bed to rest heavily on the floor. He panted as his hands held his head up, fingers digging into his skull. What the hell was that?

Looking around for his things, Sam spotted nothing familiar. As a matter of fact, Sam saw nothing here which did not belong to the motel. How had he come here, anyway? His mouth felt dry and his hair greasy, and his bladder full. Well, first things first.

Sam walked unsteadily to the bathroom. After relieving his bladder, he used one of the two wrapped plastic cups to drink his fill of tapwater. Next he checked the shower. There was a small bar of soap and some of those tiny travel shampoo containers. His clothes reeked, but he really didn't have much choice. Sam locked the bathroom door before shedding his clothes. He was in the shower when he heard the door to the room slam shut.

"Sam! It's me!" a very familiar voice called out.

Sam breathed out in relief it was only Bobby. "Out in a minute!"

"Got some clean clothes for ya! I'll set 'em outside the door!" Bobby shouted over the sound of the water.

"Thanks!" Sam rushed through the rest of his shower, anxious to learn what was happening. With a towel wrapped firmly around his waist, Sam opened the bathroom door. Bobby sat on the far bed focused on the television. Sam snagged the small pile of clothes waiting for him. He dressed quickly. The pants were several inches too short and the shirt a size too big, but at least he didn't look like an escaped mental patient. He hoped. The bright orange band which had been around his wrist was gone; he probably had Bobby to thank for that as well.

Sam stepped back out into the room. "What's going on?" he asked.

"There's an alert out on Dean in four counties," Bobby reported, his gaze still fixed on the screen. He turned to look at Sam. "You too."

Sam nodded he understood. "Figures. I don't suppose you have a laptop?"

One of Bobby's eyebrows shot up behind the bill of his cap while his mouth twisted into a frown.

"Yeah, I didn't think so," Sam replied with a nod. "We'll have to hit some place with an internet connection I can use."

"What for?" Bobby demanded. "You think Dean's advertising his location on the world wide web?" He snorted disdainfully.

"No," Sam said, fully understanding Bobby's skepticism. After all, Dean was the oldest and the one who listened attentively whenever John Winchester spoke. If Dean didn't want to be found, you could be damn sure he wouldn't be. At least, not because Dean screwed up. "I hid a GPS chip from a cell phone, with a battery hooked up to it, in the Impala. All we have to do is track it."

Bobby pushed his hat back on his head to scratch just under the brim. "No offense, Sam, but are you insane? You two are wanted by the Feds! What in the hell would you do that for?" He swept an arm out. "There's no way you coulda predicted this!"

Sam shook his head. "No. I didn't." He headed for the door. "Well?" Sam demanded. "Are we going to find Dean or not?"

Bobby glared at him. He picked up a brown bag Sam hadn't noticed earlier to toss across the room. Sam caught it easily. "Eat first. We both need some shut eye. First thing in the mornin' we'll check out your crazy GPS." Bobby rolled his eyes.

"It'll work," Sam argued, dropping the paper bag on the bed. "And I'm not hungry, let's go now."

Bobby shook his head again. "Assuming Dean doesn't know what you did, I doubt there's any place around here with internet access that's open right now. It's almost midnight, Sam. And second, if Dean does know about it..." Bobby's voice trailed off as he shook his head. "Well, let's just say I'd rather not catch up to him before daylight."

Bobby turned the television off. He stretched out on the far bed, the one closest to the wall. "I don't know about you, but I figure I'm gonna need my strength for the next coupla days." With that, Bobby pulled the cap down over his face and stopped moving.

Crap.

Sam considered just taking the Chevelle to find some uppity coffee house with internet, but those places didn't usually furnish a computer as well. He would most likely need a public library, which would all be closed at this time of night.

The burger was cold and tasteless, not that Sam noticed. All he could think of was his brother leaving with glowing red eyes. And the fact he had to sleep by the door.

* * *

The road rolled under his wheels and the night air caressed his skin and rippled through his hair. Dean hung one arm out the window, tapping his hand gently on the door in time to the music pouring out of the speakers. He hoped to be allowed to drive all night, to get as far away from Sam and Bobby as he could. They would try to follow him.

Maybe.

Then again, he could be a royal pain in the ass. How many times had both Sam and Bobby called him an idiot? They might decide they were better off now, without him. A chill ran down his spine and the dark thing inside him squirmed with excitement.

Dean turned up the music and floored the accelerator. If he wrapped his car around a tree, at least they would be going out together. The darkness commanded him to keep driving, and he obeyed readily. When the sun peeked over the horizon a roadside rest area loomed ahead.

_Stop the car_, it commanded. _I'm hungry_.

With a deep breath, Dean swallowed hard before obeying. He pulled into the rest area. Trees surrounded a bricked structure which housed restrooms and vending machines. It was a nice one. He felt the need for privacy so Dean parked as far away from the building as he could, despite the fact there was only one other vehicle there. Dean turned the music off first, then the engine. The silence which followed filled his ears like cotton stuffing. He slid down to lay across the front seat and closed his eyes, waiting tensely for it to start.

_You know they won't come_, the voice said to him. _Why would they? They leave. They all leave._

Dean opened his eyes to find himself in a motel room which appeared familiar. It was too quiet. He rolled out of bed.

"Sam, wake up!" Dean stretched and yawned. "Dude, I figure we can call Bobby, see about crashing at his place for a while. I'm sure he'll have something to say about this. Sam?" Dean finally dragged his eyes over to Sam's bed.

Sam's empty bed. It was even made. Gee, wasn't that nice of him, to make his bed before sneaking off? And how worthless was he, to sleep through Sam making his bed as well as sneaking out?

Dean shook the thought from his head. Sam promised to give them at least a few days to think things over. He promised. He was probably just out rustling up some breakfast. Yeah, that was it. Dean opened the curtain in front of the window to keep watch. By two in the afternoon, Dean had to admit Sam wasn't out picking up food. He was gone.

Again.

First Stanford. Then that stupid fight in the middle of the night, where Sam took off on foot. Dean was still kicking himself for actually driving off that time. He should have been able to talk some sense into his stubborn brother.

Ha! Yesterday he thought he had succeeded in talking sense into Sam. Yeah, right. That'd be the day. Obviously Dean had no brains. Dad had never listened to him, why should Sam?

Dad had left him in the dust too. At least this time with Sam he knew why. It was because he was worthless, so that must be the same reason Sam left the last two times and the reason Dad left.

_Dad's dead, Dean. And I miss him._

Dean blinked hard, looking around the empty room. Where had that come from?

_You're worthless. Focus, Dean_.

Dean nodded, giving in to the voice. This was something he knew how to do, taking orders. He had done it all his life. He would die following orders, he was sure. Whether it was Dad's or Sam's or this darkness, would it matter? One of them would be the end of him.

Dean curled in on himself, focusing on how worthless he was. Beneath his skin he felt the darkness grow, spreading out and worming deeper. The darkness was merging and blending with each thought and memory it explored. Somehow he knew that soon, he wouldn't be able to tell the difference between them. And by then, it wouldn't matter.


	10. Chapter 10: Surprise, surprise

_**Chapter Ten - Surprise, surprise **_

Dean woke up hungry. He sat up in the driver's seat, listened to his stomach growl like an angry Doberman.

The other car at the rest stop was gone.

Dean watched as the spirits of a family of four who'd been killed on the interstate drifted silently across the darkened pavement, towards the woods. It was a mother and father, a little boy and his older sister. The accident happened over six months ago. They were confused. Dean could tell.

He still saw everything unseen around him. That much hadn't changed.

They did this every night at the same time, not realizing that all four of them died instantly in that crash with that wrong-way driver. A part of Dean, buried deep within the darkness, thought that he really should care about what he was seeing, restless ghosts and such.

Another part of him really didn't give a damn.

What mattered to Dean now was keeping his end of the bargain. Keeping the darkness away from Sam and Bobby. Keeping them safe.

Dean sat there for a moment, that red glint in his eyes faintly visible through those dark sunglasses he wore. The darkness curled up inside him, coiled on itself, contented, sluggish as it digested its latest meal.

Dean's stomach growled again, low and rough, and the darkness stirred irritably.

_What was that?_

"'m hungry," Dean said aloud. It was just a statement of fact. He couldn't remember the last time he'd eaten _something_, _anything_. His throat was dry almost to the point of being raw. His belly was a deep hollow hole inside him.

Dean didn't move. He just sat there. Waiting.

_Oh. _

This was something the dark thing hadn't considered. Of course his pet needed to eat. It had never had to take such care of its favored ones before. Inside the confines of County General it never had to. The hospital staff would force feed its Chosen Ones if necessary, if they lasted that long. Now that they were out in the wild, so to speak, the darkness had to be careful. It had no desire to run Dean Winchester into the ground like the boy was some worthless pack mule. This was only the beginning of a relationship that would last for the rest of eternity.

_You need food,_ it said flatly.

"Yeah." There was no sarcasm in Dean's voice. He watched blankly as two more spirits floated nearby, both of them wearing motorcycle leathers. Their heads were split open.

They hadn't worn their helmets that day.

_What is this place?_

Dean shrugged. "Rest stop."

_Is there food in there?_

Dean shrugged. "Chips and soda and stuff..." His voice trailed off. He pictured each one in his mind as he named them.

_But…that's not the kind of food you want, is it?_

"No."

_Show me._

Catfish fried in beer batter, light and fluffy. Thick slabs of well done hamburger meat nestled between two sesame seed buns, lettuce, tomato, pickle relish and thin slices of onions. Sliced fried potatoes…_french fries_, the human boy called it.

Thick slices of juicy apple pie, with a buttery flaky crust.

More pies. Cherry, Blueberry. Lemon. A strawberry shake so rich and thick and cold, the memory of it made Dean's head ache a little….

_Stop_, the darkness said at last. It was all a little overwhelming.

Dean sat there, waiting.

_Go find your food._

The corners of Dean's mouth twitched up a little as he turned the ignition. It wasn't his usual smirk, but it was close enough.

* * *

The waitress' name was Mandy, and the darkness hated her the first time it looked at her through Dean's eyes. She was about Dean's age, blonde and slender. Just his type. She touched Dean every chance she got, repeatedly on his broad shoulders, on his right hand. The dark one snarled inside Dean's head. It wasn't used to being touched like that.

Dean had a random thought about getting together with Mandy after her shift was over, but the darkness refused to allow it. Any of it.

For once, Dean didn't mind.

It was bad enough that it had to sit there and wait impatiently while Dean ate. And did he have to eat so much?

It grudgingly allowed Dean to remove his sunglasses inside the well-lit diner. It hid the red glint in Dean's eyes. As the meal progressed Dean smiled and was charming enough to Mandy, and the darkness settled itself. It was in for the long haul. It would have to re-think the way it did things, so that it wouldn't squander its precious green-eyed prize.

"Well, there you are," this voice rumbled from behind.

Dean froze. That forkful of cherry pie in his hand stopped in mid-air.

_Dad,_ Dean thought dully. He raised his head and stared at the man who slid into the seat directly opposite him.

"Hey, Dean," Gordon Walker drawled lazily. That smile of his didn't reach his eyes.

Dean huffed. He popped the forkful of fruit and flaky pie crust into his mouth, then gestured at Gordon with his fork as he chewed. "Gonna have to buy your own, dude. I'm not sharing."

Gordon laughed. The sound was totally devoid of any humor.

"Thought you'd be in prison by now," Dean mumbled with his mouth half full.

"No thanks to you. And that demon brother of yours."

"Who? Sammy? Oh, no." The darkness inside Dean chuckled. "You got that wrong," Dean swallowed the rest of the pie.

_Gordon Walker. A hunter,_ the darkness thought. It knew the complete history between the two men. An obsessed one. Thought Sam Winchester was the Anti-Christ. Walker was the reason Sam disappeared that night. Gordon Walker somehow managed to overpower Dean, use him as the bait in a trap set for the younger brother.

The trap failed. And yet here he was again.

Gordon leaned forward. "We can do this easy, or hard, Dean. After all, you wouldn't want any of these civilians around here to get hurt, would you?"

Dean quirked an eyebrow at him.

"Got some friends with me." Dean glanced over at the front door. Two large burly types glared back at him. Rough looking, capable, and Dean had no doubt that they had guns tucked in underneath their jackets.

"We wanna talk to you. About Sam." Gordon sat back. "Word travels fast, Dean. Heard you were at County General Hospital for about three weeks." Gordon reached out and snagged a fat juicy cherry from Dean's plate. He popped it into his mouth and chewed while Dean glared at him.

"Heard all kinds of things, about how you were in the psych ward. How you saw spirits and vamps and all." Gordon smiled. "Does this kind of thing run in the family, Dean? Did your abilities finally come out, and you couldn't handle them? Freaked you out? Or did Sam infect you somehow? I imagine it would be kind of lonely bringing about the Apocalypse without his big brother at his side."

There was more. Another human stepped up behind Dean just then.

_Shielded. They were shielded---_

Something cold and metallic was pressed against the back of Dean's neck.

_Containment amulet,_ Dean thought. The pupils of his eyes flashed red, and then the glint was gone.

"There now," Gordon purred. The man standing behind Dean very carefully looped the cord of the amulet around Dean's neck as he slid the metallic object down Dean's shirt. "You in a sharing and caring mood now, Dean?'

"Yes," Dean said dully.

Gordon scowled. "Yes, what?"

"Yes sir."

Gordon smiled. "That's my boy. You don't move unless I say. Understand?"

Dean nodded, his eyes horribly blank.

"Come on let's go, then."

Dean did as he was told. Gordon left enough money to cover Dean's meal. He stiffed Mandy her tip.

_Wait,_ the darkness murmured in Dean's ear. _Wait._ It was caught off guard, temporarily bound. It had been at County General all these many years, had gotten complacent. It would have to adapt now, if it was to survive.

It still had Dean. His body and his hunter's instincts. Dean had the choice of the knife at his ankle, or the gun in his back waistband.

The gun was closer.

There were six in all, and they surrounded Dean as he stepped out onto the parking lot. Gordon walked in the lead, towards this nondescript looking grey panel truck.

Gordon turned and bared his teeth at Dean. Well, it looked like he was smiling. "I know you're packing, Dean." The two men on either side of Dean grabbed his arms on either side tightly. Gordon flipped open Dean's jacket, reached in underneath his overshirt. "Let's lighten your load, shall we?"

Dean just stood there.

The two men holding him staggered as an unbearable pressure built up behind their eyes. Everything went pitch black for them. They stumbled around in eternal darkness now.

Everything slowed down just then. Gordon remembered how bright Dean's eyes were. Too bright, too green, and Dean smirked a little as he picked up the man behind him and threw him against the side of this tractor trailer nearby. The other hunter was out of Dean's reach, but it didn't matter. Dean turned and gestured at him with fingers outstretched, claw-like, and the man went flying up against the side of the diner.

Gordon drew his own gun, and Dean was suddenly_ there_, right in his face. Gordon heard the bones in his wrist snap like brittle twigs, then he was flying through the air, right into the windshield of the grey van.

_Damn._ That was the last thought Gordon had for a while.

* * *

_Pull over, Dean. _

Sixty miles down the highway, Dean pulled the Impala off onto a side road. Dean reached underneath his shirt and pulled the containment amulet from around his neck. He rolled down the window, and tossed the damn thing into the weeds by the shoulder of the road.

Then he sat there. Waiting.

_Why did you…how did you do that? _the darkness sputtered.

Dean shrugged.

_Speak!_

"Because…you…you couldn't."

_You did all that. On your own. _

"Yeah."

_Why? They could have saved you._

"Not gonna welsh on the deal," Dean muttered softly.

Dean sat quietly, his eyes glowing soft red, as the darkness examined his head from the inside. The head injury was the cause. It had opened Dean's mind up in more ways than one.

It was the only time in its long unnatural life the dark thing was struck speechless.

This one, his _Dean_, was full of surprises.

* * *

Bobby's hands tightened on the Chevelle's steering wheel. Lord, he loved this kid like he was his own, but right now Sam was doing a pretty good imitation of John Winchester, which was just a polite way of saying pig-headed and pissed off.

Sam was _pissed_. Pissed that they didn't go roaming around at night all half-cocked, looking for Dean. Pissed that Bobby hadn't thought to bring a laptop with him. Huh. What was Bobby supposed to do with the damn laptop, throw it at the critter? Public libraries in these parts didn't open until ten. Sam glanced out the window searching for any signage that would indicate a library nearby. His eyes narrowed, and his mouth twitched into a thin, hard line.

Like father, like son.

Sam was actually more like John than he ever dared admit. Dean apparently was tempered by having his Mom around for the first four years of his life. He could get prickly at times, but nothing beat Sam Winchester's bitchface.

Hell of a way to start the day. And it wasn't even nine twenty yet.

Bobby huffed. "Sam, we gotta talk about this sooner or later. I've seen all kinds of demons in my time. Those red eyes of Dean's, that's not a good sign. We might have to re-think this whole thing."

"Rethink how?"

Bobby sighed. "There ain't a heck of a lot that heaven and hell agree on, but there is one thing. Free will."

Sam's frown deepened. "I'm not following you."

"Dean gave himself to that critter."

Sam huffed a short burst of surprised laughter. "No he didn't. This is Dean we're talking about. Dean hates everything supernatural. Dad might have made a deal with a demon, but Dean wouldn't. He couldn't."

Bobby pulled up to the red light behind this dump truck. He quirked one eyebrow and stared pointedly at Sam. "Boy, you just proved my point for me. John made the damn deal to save Dean. Dean made this deal to save you."

Sam shook his head. "No. you're wrong."

"Am I?" The light turned green and the dump truck rumbled away from them. "That thing in the hospital…didn't it tell you that Dean was behaving himself now? Isn't that what you told me? We both know how Dean is, Sam. He'd fight that thing until he breathed his last. He's not. Why not?"

The memory floated to the surface then, that _thing_ clothed in Jess' image, standing over his bed. Touching him. Taunting him.

"_Your wonderful, self-sacrificing big brother."_

Sam's gut tightened painfully.

"_I think he'd do anything for you. Lucky for me."_

Sam shook his head, again in the negative. Once. Twice. He looked dazed, shocked out of that pissy mood of his.

"We gotta be clear on this," Bobby rumbled on. It had to be said. "A voluntary possession, if that's what this is, is one of the worst things I can think of. If Dean's cooperating with that thing, that'll make our job just that much harder."

All the spit in Sam's mouth suddenly dried up. "How do…how do you drive the demon out then?"

Bobby shook his head. "You can't."

* * *

The air was thick with the smell of gunpowder. Only the cool night air coming in through that broken window made breathing bearable. Sammy was coming back to himself now, crying, and the damn witch was gone.

"What happened?" John Winchester gritted out. He held Sammy to his chest like the boy was a precious thing, and why not?

_Sam's his favorite,_ the dark voice inside Dean's head whispered._ Always has been. You're just the bodyguard, the good little soldier. Daddy's little blunt instrument._

"I -- I j-just went o-out," nine year old Dean stammered.

" What?"

"Just for a second. I'm – I'm sorry." God, he was such a fuck up. There was no sense in saying anything else.

"I told you not to leave this room. I told you not to let him out of your sight," Dad said quietly as he hugged four year old Sam to his chest like a precious, fragile thing.

_Dad's got the son he wanted all along,_ this voice inside Dean's head whispered_. He just kept you around to look after the brat._ It sounded more like his voice now, but it wasn't. Not yet, anyway.

Nine year old Dean just nodded. He couldn't tell who he was agreeing with. He stood there in that one spot. And he didn't move.

John sat Sam on the bed, and Dean didn't even tense up when John turned towards him.

_Whatever he's gonna do to me, it's fine. It's fine. I deserve it…_

John brushed past Dean as if he wasn't even there. He stalked over to the duffels on the floor, threw one in that chair nearby, and started packing.

They were leaving.

_You're not even worth being yelled at anymore. Not even worth the energy it would take for him to hit you. _

Dean Winchester lay curled up on his side on the bed in room 11D at the Cheshire Motor Lodge. The people next door were loud and noisy. Radios blasted, doors slammed all night long, and at one point an argument broke out and the police were called to break up the fight.

None of that bothered Dean. He lay there staring blankly into space, his green eyes covered with a transparent red glaze. His breathing was slow and steady. His head was filled with scenes from the past, memories of his life on the road. It roared inside his skull like the echo of the ocean trapped inside a sea shell.

John ignored Dean for four weeks. An entire month.

Dean relived it_ all_. Every snub, every time John looked at him and through him. Dean became silent, mute, the same way he did when Mary Winchester died.

That was bad enough.

_Dad looked at me different now, which was worse…_

Dean still held onto those memories after all that time, over two decades. And the beautiful part was, John Winchester inflicted this damage on his eldest son in the mistaken belief that he was helping the boy somehow.

It was ironic, but the darkness realized it owed John Winchester a debt of gratitude.


	11. Chapter 11: Dealing With Darkness

Chapter 11: **Dealing With Darkness**

Dean stared dully at the wall as long buried emotions subsided. The darkness had nestled firmly under his skin, burrowed deep in his memories, but right now it felt different. Kind of like it was asleep. If it hadn't been for his demanding bladder, he might have stayed right there. However, Dean had no desire to add bed-wetting to his long list of spectacular failures, so he forced himself to stand.

God, he was tired. Every muscle in his body freaking ached as he shuffled slowly to the cramped bathroom. A glance at the second bed, empty, reminded him of who should be there. With a sigh, Dean turned his back on it.

Once his bladder had been relieved, Dean glanced into the mirror as he washed his hands. There was no longer a red glaze to his eyes. He tried a quick experiment, thinking of Sam calling him Dad's toy soldier. There was no voice in his head commenting on how worthless he was, no eager uncoiling of the darkness to come and feed. It was asleep.

Damn, but this thing was lazy. It couldn't defend them against Walker and his cronies and it fed until it fell asleep? Speaking of Walker...

Dean focused on the wrapped plastic cup by the sink. It rose slowly into the air, teetering back and forth. The plastic wrap split open and fell away. The cup rotated, spinning faster and faster, until it began to crack. Taking a step back, Dean continued to concentrate. The cracking intensified, the cup imploding to form a jagged plastic ball. As the ball spun fast enough for it to blur, it heated and the jagged edges melted back. Then the ball slowed.

Dean plucked the warm plastic ball from the air to examine it. "Wicked," he breathed, thoroughly impressed. He had no idea how he could do this, but at least he could defend them against all comers. The darkness seemed to think it had something to do with the accident, he knew. The fact he knew what the darkness thought sent a chill down his spine. He had hoped this 'merging' thing would take longer.

* * *

Sam stared morosely at the computer terminal as page after page of websites scrolled past. He had really thought his cell phone-gps chip trick would work. He'd tested it a few times and it had seemed to be tracking the Impala perfectly. It was almost as if something were blocking it, or Dean had found it. No, Sam decided, most likely he hadn't checked the battery in a while. Damn it! And when he really needed it too!

Focusing on the object of his current search, none of the search hits looked even remotely promising for explaining what targeted Dean in the hospital. Bobby kept saying demon, but Bobby saw demons everywhere. Why would a demon hang out in a hospital? It just didn't make sense. No, it had to be some kind of vengeful spirit, a really pissed off one to have enough power to hitch a ride with Dean. And the list for County General? Well, it stretched from the desecrated Civil War graveyard up to a nasty car wreck last month. So that made for literally thousands of possibilities.

Frigging perfect.

The first time Bobby's cell rang, Sam didn't notice. The second time Bobby yanked it out of his pocket like it burned. He frowned at it, meeting Sam's questioning gaze.

'Unknown' Bobby mouthed at him. He flipped the bulky cell phone open. Good grief, had Bobby bought it back in the nineties?

"Yeah?" he demanded. His eyebrows shot up. "Dean?"

Sam's hand shot out to snatch the phone away from Bobby. "Dean!" he practically shouted as he pressed it against his cheek.

"Sam?" Dean's voice was the best damned sound in the whole frigging world. Bobby rushed to his side to press an ear against the other side of the phone.

"Look, Sam, I know you don't understand any of this..." Dean began.

"Where are you?" Sam demanded. "I'll come there and we'll talk. In person," he insisted.

Dean's heavy sigh was not what Sam wanted to hear. "Sam, I just called to tell you not to look for me. It's best this way."

"What is best this way?" Sam's heart pounded painfully in his chest. What in the hell was Dean talking about?

"Oh, crap, it's waking up," Dean mumbled. "Look, I have to go. I'm sorry, Sam, but this is the way it's got to be. Take care of yourself and remember, I'm proud of ya."

Sam started to protest, but the call was disconnected. He nearly threw the phone in his frustration, but Sam checked the caller id. It had the number Dean called from. With a triumphant glance at Bobby, Sam researched the number and traced it to a motel about a three hour drive from here.

"Let's go," Bobby said as Sam scribbled down the address. "I'm drivin'."

They had been on the road for about an hour before Bobby cleared his throat. Sam dreaded the conversation which was about to take place.

"You did hear him, right?" Bobby asked. "About 'it' waking up." The older hunter gave Sam a piercing look. "Demon, Sam."

Sam shook his head stubbornly. "No, Bobby. It can't be. It just can't."

Bobby sighed long and loud. "Sam, we're gonna find him. But I can't promise you'll be happy about it when we do."

Frustrated, Sam glared out the window. "Then why are we going?" Sam demanded.

Bobby snorted. "You don't think I'm gonna let that brother of yours go without a fight, do ya?"

Sam glanced over in surprise at the raw emotion in Bobby's voice. He always liked Bobby. Really.

* * *

_What have you done?_ It demanded of its prize.

Dean sighed as he hung up the phone. "We should go," he said aloud. "Sam'll trace the call."

_Why did you call?_

Dean looked across the room at the mirror. Their green eyes were tinted red. He pulled his sunglasses out of his pocket. "To tell him not to follow us."

_But you said he would trace the call,_ it insisted. _Why would you call if you knew it would lead him here?_

Dean paused, heaving a loud sigh. "I guess I just wanted to hear his voice. You know, say goodbye."

It thought this through. Perhaps this was not a bad thing. Yes, it realized, much good could come of this. Although Dean had given himself freely, it was not experienced in caring for pets. It had nearly lost him to those hunters, and Dean required other care as well.

_You should eat_, it told him. _This time if a female touches you, you must tell me if it is a good thing._

Dean nodded silently at their reflection, a thin grin snaking across his face. "Really?" he asked.

_Really. I must learn how to care for you._

Dean nodded again. "It won't be hard," he said in a reassuring tone. "I'm used to taking care of myself."

_No_, it replied sternly. _I will care for you._

Dean shrugged. "I know how to take orders. No problem."

Reassured, it coiled itself comfortably within its new pet. It had a desire to bring all of Dean's most painful memories forth right away, but it knew this union could be good for years. It wished to save some of the juicy bits for later, when it would crave variety. Besides, for now its appetite had been sated. It felt full and lazy and perfectly willing to allow Dean to seek his own minor pleasures, such as food.

* * *

Dean drove an hour out from the motel where he had been stupid enough to call Bobby and Sam. He had known they would still be together, had been counting on it. Unsure why he had done it, Dean pulled in to a diner parking lot. There were a lot of work trucks there, which usually meant the food would be decent and reasonably priced.

_Go on_, the darkness encouraged him. _I wish to know why this is pleasurable._

Dean sauntered in to the place. It was cafeteria style and seat yourself. After It had been about one step away from throwing a full out hissy fit over the waitress last time, this was perfect. Dean got double helpings of pot roast and all the sides, plus two, count 'em two, kinds of pie. Oh, yeah!

He found a small table against the far wall to eat. Dean settled in. Each time he took a bite, the darkness wanted to know how it was, why it tasted good, what it did for him. By the time he was only a third of the way into his meal, he told it to shut the hell up so he could freaking eat. That might have been a mistake, but it coiled up tightly deep in his gut and went quiet. Finally!

Dean managed to eat the rest of his meal in peace. As he walked out, he felt the darkness stir again.

_You are satisfied?_ It asked.

"Sure," Dean replied. "But I got to warn ya, I prefer eating about four or five times a day, not just once."

It growled with displeasure but said nothing. Dean fired up his car and pulled out.

"Where to?" he asked, growing accustomed to taking orders from something he couldn't see.

_What do you hunt?_ It asked him.

Dean shrugged as he pulled on to a main road. "Ghosts, spirits, werewolves, demons, you name it."

_Demons?_ It sounded excited. _You hunt demons?_

"Uh, yeah," Dean replied slowly with the sinking feeling he said the wrong frigging thing. "But you knew that, right?"

_I suspected_, It replied. _I wish to look up some old acquaintances._

Dean felt ancient names thrust in his mind, along with the places where some very old demons hung out. Very old demons who had slowed down in this millenia of their existence and who required a little comeuppance. Dean chuckled as he signaled to head for the interstate.

"A little revenge, huh? Okay, but I should warn you, normally I exorcise the bastards. What happens to you?" The idea this was a little more than just some vengeful spirit had been tugging at the edges of his consciousness for a while.

_I shall be fine,_ It replied happily. _You have given yourself freely, therefore I am protected._

"Oh." Dean shrugged and checked for oncoming traffic. "Well, learn something new every day, right?"

_Now I shall teach you about the others_, It told him. _They deserve a slow, torturous banishment. They require punishment._

Dean nodded in reply. "Sure, no problem. Just tell me what I need to do."

The darkness squirmed in its excitement, floating up from its hiding places to settle again just beneath Dean's skin. Dean paid close attention as it whined about centuries of abuse and ridicule at the hands of these demons. Once they had been very close, before the time of The Fall. Now they squabbled like children, petty grievances dividing them. The darkness gave him the outline of a plan to exact revenge on these demons and teach them a lesson about picking on It.

_You know how that feels_, It said to him.

Dean shook his head. "No, not really," he admitted. It wasn't as if he could lie to the frigging thing anyway.

_You know_, It insisted. _Pull over. I am certain you know._

Dean shrugged and pulled the car off the road. He leaned back in the seat, trying to prepare himself for a slow torture by old emotions. The darkness rapidly brought a number of memories up to examine more closely, most too fast for Dean to recognize clearly. Then it pulled away, the fleet of memories fading.

_You do not know. The closest I could find was the way your father treated you, but even then you only feared losing his approval, never pain or true punishment. _It shuddered, raising goosebumps down his arms.

"So are we heading out or what?" Dean asked.

The darkness slid deep within him, coiling up in a safe place. _Drive. When you hunger, stop. Just take us to my revenge._

"No problem." Dean put his black beauty back in drive. He watched carefully for an opening in traffic before pulling out. After all, there was no sense in being killed on the way to a suicide mission.

* * *

It waited so patiently as its new prize, beloved pet, took them to sweet revenge. Dean stopped many times to eat, so many it had considered questioning him about it, however he felt stronger than it had known him to be. Perhaps the human had not been lying about requiring numerous meals per day. It strove to remember the proper care and feeding of its human.

Once, during a stop, a female began paying attention to Dean. She found opportunity to touch him repeatedly on the shoulders, arms and his hands. It watched, wondering why Dean would allow such an intrusion in his personal space. Their personal space. When they left, the female slipped Dean a napkin with writing on it.

_What is that? _It demanded the instant they were alone.

"I still got the mojo," Dean crowed as he waved the napkin through the window at the female. She giggled at him, waving back.

_What is mojo?_ It wanted to know.

"Dude," Dean shook their head as he walked back to the car. "If I have to explain it, you don't got it."

It chose to resettle deeper within its pet, inside Dean's constant insecurities. His insecurities provided a delicious place to wait.

"Shouldn't we do some research or something?" Dean asked.

_Why?_

"To be sure they're still there," he said with a shrug. "I don't know, it just doesn't feel right not to do a little research."

_There is no need_, It assured its pet. _I shall know them._

Dean shrugged again. "You're the boss."

_Yes_, It thought to itself. _I am the boss. And the others shall know it soon as well. _ It coiled tighter within its pet, anxious to arrive soon.


	12. Chapter 12: Dragon's Child

_**Chapter 12– Dragon's Child**_

"Oh, yeah, I remember him," the desk clerk chirruped as she handed Dean's picture back to Sam. It was a head shot, the only picture Sam had of Dean as an adult. Dean had looked straight into the disposable camera Sam pulled out and unleashed that blinding smile of his.

The only time Sam pulled the photo out was whenever Dean went missing. Sam tried not to think about _that_.

The desk clerk --- her name tag said _Delores_ -- was a little younger than Bobby, with bleached blonde hair, a plump build, and nice skin.

"Cute guy. Broad shoulders." She laughed nervously, and Sam just stared at her. "Well, anyway, he paid, and then he left. Quiet. Never complained about the people next door." She shuddered. "Had to call the cops on them twice in one night. Second time we threw 'em out."

"Well then, little lady," Bobby drawled softly as he leaned across the counter.

_Little lady? _Sam thought to himself. _Not._

"Have you rented his room out yet?" Bobby purred softly.

Sam just stood there staring. It couldn't be…

"Well, no," Delores fluttered nervously. She was blinking way too much. "Housekeeping hasn't gotten around to turning the room yet."

In a dump like this _she_ was Housekeeping, which was just what Bobby and Sam figured.

"Then do you mind if we take a look at it before they do?" Bobby shrugged. "Don't mean to put you to any trouble, but I sure would appreciate it." He smiled warmly and leaned a little more into her personal space. "Boy's absent-minded. Probably left some of his belongings behind."

"Why yes…of course."

Bobby's smile got even wider. "Thank you."

Delores turned to get the master keys and Sam still stood there gaping. It wasn't until they were inside the room minutes later that Sam stammered out, "You were flirting with her!"

Bobby shrugged. "Yep. Think your brother cornered the market on _that_? Think again, kid."

The room was a bust. Sam had to admit he was hoping that Dean had left behind something, a note, a message scrawled in soap on the bathroom mirror. Nothing. The place was clean. Spotless, except for this little plastic ball that looked half melted around the edges, in the bathroom. Weird.

Dean didn't _want_ to be found.

_Sam, I just called to tell you not to look for me. It's best this way._

Sam's shoulders slumped as he stepped back out into the sunshine. Bobby didn't miss it, either. He slapped Sam on the shoulder. "Buck up, kid. We'll find him."

Bobby suddenly got this mischievous twinkle in his eye. "Get in the truck, Sam. I'll be right back."

Sam watched as Bobby walked back to the office. Couldn't be to turn in the keys. Delores came out and unlocked the room and then hurried back to the office, said her boss would kill her if she left the desk unattended for very long.

Bobby came back with a slight smirk on his face, pushing a yellow post-it in his front jeans pocket.

"Delores said Dean headed west," Bobby grumbled as he slid behind the wheel.

"And she gave you her phone number."

"Yep."

"You gonna call her after this is over?"

Bobby smiled a little. "I might, kid. I just might."

* * *

The rest stop wasn't even that crowded this time of day, and the food was good, for once. Reasonably priced, cooked on the spot, not from a damn vending machine.

Dean polished off the rest of his chili dog, balled up his trash and leaned out the window. Trash can was ten feet away. Dean threw the ball of trash, gave it an extra nudge with his mind. The trash ball rounded the rim of the trash can, then dropped in. "Three points!" Dean crowed to himself. "Nothin' but net!"

_Hmph._ The darkness stirred impatiently.

"We're just outside Elkhorn, Michigan. Isn't that where you said a couple of your buddies are holed up?" Dean said out loud. He looked up at the rear view mirror, pulled down his shades just enough to see that red glint in his eyes.

_Yes._

"I need to know a little more about you."

The darkness stirred. _About me? _

"Yeah. You're a demon, right?"

_I told you that. I am your master_, the darkness said loftily.

"I know that. Did you have a name back in the day?"

_Whatever I tell you, you will not be able to use it against me._

"Why are you acting like a total ass about it, then?"

The darkness growled, low and deep.

_Oh. Shit._ Dean felt his throat close up. His chest hitched from the sudden lack of oxygen, and he fell back against the seat as grey spots dotted his vision. _You will mind your tone when you address me. You are mine, boy. Mine. Now and forever. I think you should remember that._

"Okay." Dean gasped roughly. "Okay." Damn thing was giving him just enough oxygen. Dean knew what It wanted, so he gave in to It. "I get it. I'm…I'm sorry."

His throat opened up again. Dean took a great whooping breath of air. Fresh air and auto exhaust never smelled so sweet.

_Good. _It waited patiently for its pet to catch its breath. The darkness had no desire to harm its precious possession, but it couldn't allow such insolence.

_I have many names. Tephaes. Draconêdismos Vermithrax. Bianakith. Kunospaton. My wings were massive. They eclipsed the sky, sun and moon. I brought terror to the lands of men. I ruled the air and the filament of heaven, before and even after The Fall._

"Well," Dean said slowly, unsure whether he was going to get punished again, "How did you go from all that to…_this_?"

_I was betrayed. _

"That's how you ended up at County General," Dean whispered softly to himself.

_I told you before. I was set upon by my brethren. They weakened me. Thought I was destroyed. I took refuge in human flesh over the years. One of my hosts was injured, taken to that place. It became my home. You are my home now. Do you wish to hear more of my names?_

"Will I be able to pronounce any of them? 'cause I can't pronounce any of the ones you mentioned so far."

_No._

"I'm willing to bet you looked like a dragon, right? Wings and all? They called you a wurm, didn't they?"

_Yes, _the darkness hissed vehemently._ Wurm. I hate that word. _

Dean looked suddenly alert. "I'll just call you Draco. It's Latin for dragon."

_Draco?_ The darkness purred. It was secretly pleased, but chose not to show it. _I will permit this._

"Okay then. Anything else you wanna tell me about this first demon on your hit list?"

_Later, youngling. You must find a place to stay for the night. We will teach them their place in the morning, but for now, we must prepare. _

Prepare? Suddenly Dean didn't like the sound of that.

* * *

"Yeah," Bobby growled into the phone. "Singer."

Sam froze in place.

"Uh huh. Yeah. You sure it was Dean Winchester, huh? Okay."

They were parked on the shoulder of the highway. Bobby could drive and talk on that large, outdated looking phone of his at the same time, but he preferred not to take the chance. Last thing they needed was an accident at this point.

Sam willed himself to sit perfectly still. Felt like he was vibrating in his skin.

"He _blinded_ them? Wait a minute. What kind of an idjit goes hunting with Gordon Walker, anyway? You better consider the source before you go around calling for a lynch mob on a fellow hunter. I don't know anything about special powers or glowing green eyes. Last time I saw Dean Winchester he was normal," Bobby lied.

_Oh crap,_ Sam thought. _Now what?_

"Uh huh." Bobby listened intently, and then huffed indignantly. "Yeah. Keep me posted. If I hear anything I'll call you back."

Bobby flipped the phone shut and sat quietly for a moment, staring straight ahead. That pit in Sam's stomach expanded into a softball sized lump, heavy and sour.

"It's Dean," Bobby said at last. "Gordon Walker and about six of his crew jumped Dean at a diner about a day ago." Bobby turned and at Sam. The look on Bobby's face was carefully blank. "They wanted to talk to Dean about_ you_, Sam. They heard Dean was at County General. Probably got the news from some loudmouth orderly. Seems that Dean waited until he got 'em out on the parking lot. He blinded two of them. Permanently. Detached their retinas without laying a finger on them. Picked up the other two without touching them, threw 'em around like rag dolls. Broke Gordon Walker's arm when he picked him up and tossed him into a van. Now some of the hunters are talking about hunting Dean down."

"Damn. Bobby, we…we gotta find him."

Bobby grunted as he turned on the truck's ignition. "I said we will," the older hunter said quietly. "Last time you were at my place you told me that you prayed every day. You still do that, Sam?"

"Yeah, I do."

"Good," Bobby nodded. "Send up a prayer for us and Dean. Make it a good one, 'cause I think we're gonna need it."

* * *

Funny thing was, Dean didn't enjoy the food half as much as he did those other times. The blueberry pie was fantastic, but it tasted like cardboard. The entire meal was one of the best he'd ever had out on the road: fried shrimp, French fries, sirloin steak, spaghetti and meatballs, baked potatoes. Dean barely tasted it all.

_Now we must prepare._

No telling _what_ this sick fuck had in mind.

Didn't matter. None of this did. Didn't even matter what happened to him, even with all he could do with his mind now. Chances were pretty good that he wouldn't make it out of the darkness' vendetta alive, and if he could somehow drag the bastard down with him, so much the better.

The darkness fed after Dean did.

It stirred inside him as soon as Dean opened the door to his room. He didn't even bother to turn on the light. The drapes were pulled back from that large bay window, and he could see the room drenched in moonlight. Dean closed the door behind him as he stumbled to one of the twin sized beds.

Dean laid down, curled up on his side. The darkness fed on the memory Dean had, a bad time at one of the many schools he'd attended as a teenager.

_Freak. Freak Winchester._

He was fourteen at the time. Local bullies targeted him.

_What the hell kinda name is Dean, huh? Perfect name for a freak._

No big deal. Dean really didn't mind, as long as they kept their attention on _him_, and not Sam.

_Look at you. Got a girl's mouth and eyelashes. Bet I know what you like to do, huh, freak?_

A few fistfights, a few broken bones later (_theirs, not his_) and they learned to leave him alone.

When it was over, Dean rolled off the bed, put both feet on the floor and sat there in the dark, hunched over, breathing heavily. The darkness curled up comfortably in his gut, sated for the moment.

It was such a small thing, and he was so tired, he really should have known better than to think it was all over for the night.

* * *

"Job's gotta get done," Gordon drawled softly.

Kubrick looked doubtful. "In case you haven't noticed, Gordie, we need all hands on deck for this one, and you're about a hand short."

Gordon had to laugh at that one. Kubrick untensed, just a little.

"You saw Watson and Schuck. You saw what Dean Winchester did to them. Now the others? They don't have the balls to stay the course. They're not here. Ran like rabbits." Gordon nodded at Creedie. He didn't know the other four hunters in the RV, but he looked each on in the eye in turn.

Harper was small and skinny, with a shaved head. Tracked down a wendigo once, up north somewhere, and lived to tell about it.

Kimball and Shaw were cousins. They worked together, cleaned out a nest of vamps out in the Southwest. Both men were big and bulky. Kimball favored cutting instruments made of silver or brass. Shaw was a big fan of the old salt and burn.

Grace was a surprise. Rumor was her entire family got wiped out by a revenant. She paid the damn thing back in full, and she didn't have much qualms about killing anything else that got in her way. She was tall, and willowy, with long wavy red hair, full lips and freckles. She smiled and nodded back when she saw Gordon look at her.

Gordon figured Dean would like the way she looked, too.

"You all know me," Gordon said slowly. "You've seen the signs in your line of work. These bastard things are getting bolder, and there's gotta be a reason for that. I say it's the Winchester brothers. First Sam Winchester, and now Dean. I don't know how it happened, and I really don't care. Only thing I know is that Dean Winchester attacked me and six other hunters. I figure what happened is that Sam Winchester made Dean his bitch, and now Dean's helping out his little brother like a good little hell bound bastard. Dean Winchester's gotta go. Him _and_ his brother. Anybody who doesn't want to hunt with me can leave. Now."

No one moved.

Gordon smiled. "Good. All right, boys and girls. We got work to do."

* * *

Naked, Dean padded into the shower slowly. God, his back hurt. Felt like he'd taken a real good shot to the kidneys. He turned on the warm water first, adjusted the stream, and then stepped gingerly into the spray.

_Oh hell yeah._ That was better. His muscles loosened up, and Dean stood there for a moment, let the warm water wash over his broad back and shoulders. He could go to sleep standing up. He'd done that before, in other places not nearly as nice as this. He turned around and closed his eyes, leaned into the warm spray.

_I told you we had to prepare, my little one,_ the darkness whispered.

Dean's eyes blinked open. "Wh--what?"

_We need to prepare,_ the darkness murmured. Dean turned around, slipping slightly on the brown tiles (_but I didn't do that,_ he thought wildly) as he backed into the spray. He was no longer in control of his own body, couldn't do anything except stand there and feel the warm water run down his back.

_The others must know we are taking our revenge upon them. I like the name you have given me, Dean. I do. This is your reward, my pet. You will accept my mark, willingly. _

The pain started then, across his shoulder blades, deep into his muscles. Dean bit back the scream that threatened to rise out of his throat.

_It will all be over in a minute or so, youngling. You are my child now. Dragon's child. Anguigena,_ the darkness purred softly.

He didn't black out. That would have been too much like right. Too…merciful. Dean thought of Sam as the pain stitched its way across his shoulders and arms and down his back. He thought of Bobby, and Dean forced himself to stand still underneath the warm shower, as steam rose up all around him, and the darkness branded him forever as its own.

_Dragon's child._

It didn't take long. Dean stumbled out of the shower. He didn't even remember turning off the spray, but it was off, so he must have. He stumbled over to the bathroom mirror, turned, and stared at himself.

He was marked, now and forever. The dragon unfurled its wide, elegant wings over Dean's broad shoulders. Its head was bowed, almost swan like, and its fierce jaws gaped open, revealing a curved, forked tongue. The eyes were ruby red slits. The wings were so wide and expansive they each covered a portion of the backs of Dean's muscular arms. The tail curved down the small of Dean's back, over his right buttock, and that spiked tip curled around his upper right thigh. It was a hell of a tattoo, done in bronze ink. A work of art, a fucking masterpiece, if you were into that kind of thing.

If Dean didn't think he was screwed before, he surely knew it now.


	13. Chapter 13: Screwed

Chapter 13 – **Screwed**

Well, between the freaky glowing red eyes and the massive dragon tat, there was no way he could even try to hide any of this.

_And why would you want to hide, my pet?_ The darkness, Draco, cooed gently from the back of his mind. _You require my mark, in order for the others to know to whom you belong._

"Well, yeah," Dean said slowly. "I don't know. This just seems so...permanent."

_Was this not our agreement?_ Draco asked slowly and he could feel an undercurrent of anger.

Dean nodded quickly in the mirror. "It was. It was. But, you know, knowing something and seeing it..." He let out a low whistle at his reflection. "I could win freaking contests with this thing."

He felt the anger abate and the darkness resettle comfortably within him.

"You do good work," Dean threw in, attempting to stroke its ego. "Was there anything else? Just so I know."

_Just one more thing_, Draco said. _One little thing_.

Dean braced himself against the bathroom counter for pain: physical, emotional, whatever. He knew this was going to hurt. It began as a flushed feeling, the rising of heat into his skin. A thin sheen of sweat broke out all over his body. Dean closed his eyes against it, not that it would do him any good. Then the most wonderful feeling encompassed him. It was like safety and warmth and sex, all rolled into one. He gasped as it rolled through him like a freight train through tissue paper.

_See?_ Draco cooed. _Was that so bad?_

Dean dragged in a deep breath, unable to respond just yet. "Intense," he whispered. Unfortunately, he could see himself really becoming addicted to it. Draco slithered within him, pleased by his thoughts, and Dean found himself starting to like the sensation.

_Look at yourself now_, the darkness demanded.

Dean forced his eyes to open. Now instead of the red tint, his eyes were solid red. It wasn't hung-over blood-shot red either; his eyes sparkled with the intensity and translucence of a blood red ruby. His pupils were vertical slits, like a reptile. If anyone waited until they saw the whites of his eyes before shooting, they would never stand a chance.

"Damn," Dean breathed. "Guess I'll have to wear the shades all the time now, huh?"

_Perhaps_, Draco said. _Perhaps not. I do not mind attracting attention._

Obviously, Dean thought to himself.

_Come, my pet_, Draco coaxed him. _Tonight you choose our pleasures._

His ruby red eyes glowed with anticipation as a smile creased his face. "Lemme get dressed."

Dean gave himself one last glance in the mirror as he walked away. He could have sworn the dragon on his back didn't have such awesome red eyes before, but it sure did now. Actually, the tat was starting to grow on him. Dad would've killed him if he had expressed an interest in something like this, mainly because of the expense. But when it was free...

_Money is no longer your concern_, Draco purred softly. _ I shall take care of you. Tonight I will prove it._

Dean shrugged as he grabbed some clothes. Well, at the very least, tonight should be interesting.

* * *

Gordon Walker directed the other hunters to cover the back exit. He had it on good authority Dean was inside. Funny what demons knew when you applied the right kind of...pressure. Too bad the human didn't make it, but the way demons burned through human bodies it was probably better that way.

Gordon double-checked his weapons, the forty-five in his sling, thirty-eight in his shoulder holster, silver knife attached inside his shirt collar, iron knife in his boot, and containers of salt and holy water in each pocket. As he pushed through the front door of the smoky bar, he fingered the silver chain holding the charms which would protect him from whatever was infecting Dean. Probably some kind of demonic blood virus. There had been rumors. It could've worn off by now, but Gordon wasn't taking any chances.

The hunters he had assembled were tough and experienced and not one of them owed the Winchesters a damned thing. The last part had been key. Old John-boy had a lot of contacts in the hunting community, so contacting the old-timers had been problematic. At least half of them were more likely to tip off Winchester than hunt him down, regardless of what Gordon had seen the older son do.

That left it up to him and the younger generation. Few of his peers had ever even laid eyes on John's sons, though they had all heard of 'em. It wasn't nearly as tough as he had expected to convince them. It should have been harder, he thought to himself, considering what the Winchesters had hunted successfully. Most of these bastards just wanted to eliminate the competition, trying to appear big and bad in the hunting community. Well, whatever, as long as it got the job done.

He took up a position at the bar and ordered a beer. His confederates filtered in slowly, mainly choosing positions along the walls and near the exits. Winchester didn't know it yet, but he was trapped.

Speaking of, where was Dean? According to a minor level demon, he should have been here by now.

The door blew open, seemingly of its own accord. Gordon watched, a prickly feeling starting at the base of his spine and working swiftly up to his neck. Dean Winchester in dark sunglasses and that ratty brown leather jacket strode in like he owned the place. His smile was bright and so out of place, considering what was going to happen.

Dean walked right up and sat on the stool next to him. The dude ordered a beer. Once he held a frosty mug in his hand, he studied the foam as he swirled it gently.

"Back for more, Walker?" he asked in a casual voice.

"Brought company this time," Gordon replied, attempting to sound just as casual, but he was pretty damned amped up.

"I noticed." Dean took a long swig of his beer. He turned to flash that bright grin again. "Guess I'll get to have more than one kind of fun tonight." He pointed at the pool table tucked in to one corner, surrounded by large tough looking dudes dressed in leather and denim. "But I'm starting over there. Hang tight, I'll get back with ya later."

Taking his beer with him, Dean slid gracefully off the bar stool to saunter cockily over to the pool table. Gordon turned around to watch. It was entirely possible the tough looking dudes would do his dirty work for him. At the very least, it should give him an idea of if Dean was still infected.

From this side of the room, Gordon couldn't make out the conversation around the pool table, but he did see one of the big dudes nod at Dean and motion to another stool off to the side. Dean lounged in the stool, leaning against the back wall. Gordon wondered how in the hell the kid could see in here with those sunglasses still on, the light wasn't great as it was.

One of the (ahem) ladies (ahem) sidled over to make small talk with Winchester. Gordon knew the kid's rep, and the way he was flirting now lived up to it. Another big dude didn't seem to like it and stepped over to say something to Dean. It was strange, but the big guy got an odd look on his face, turned around and headed for the door. This wasn't shaping up too good.

Dean was still grinning and laughing with the (ahem) lady (ahem) when the other guys called him over for a game. He slapped down a wad of bills on the corner of the table. The big guy shrugged and placed enough cash to cover it and Dean's beer went on the pile to hold it down. Walker had wondered how John Winchester had managed to finance his hunting career, and now he had a pretty good idea. What happened next, though, Gordon couldn't have seen coming.

Dean winked at the woman as he slid out of his jacket. Underneath he didn't wear his usual double-shirts, the outer one long sleeved to cover all the scars he had accumulated from being John-boy's hunting partner since before he could drive. Some people shouldn't have kids. Instead he wore a black wife-beater. Intrigued by how out-of-character Dean seemed, Gordon watched intently. Dean turned to break, his back to Gordon, when a squeal pierced the air from the woman. She fawned over his back, though Gordon couldn't get a good look with the crowd forming around Winchester. Crap. Now what?

Two arms raised high in the air, black fabric coming with them. Impressed noises from the crowd accompanied it. Gordon was just thinking he ought to go over there when there was a break in the crowd, giving him a momentary clear view of Dean's back. He wore a very large, very impressive dragon tat in bronze, which against Dean's tanned skin shone more like gold. It was the eyes which got Gordon, though. Those nasty, vibrant blood-red eyes. He felt like they were watching him, trained right on him. Then someone stepped in his his way and Gordon couldn't see Dean any more.

He sat there, stunned. There was something wrong here, very wrong. When the crowd moved again, he could see Dean shooting pool shirtless while admirers followed his movements, necks craned for a better look at the tat. Dean, cocky kid that he was, seemed to soak up the attention. When it was the other guy's turn, Dean turned to give the subtlest of nods to Gordon, letting him know he hadn't been forgotten. Smug bastard.

He guessed the game was close by the way the bystanders followed so intently. That or they were all mesmerized by Dean. He preferred believing it was the game. Dean flipped his pool cue over his shoulders, the stick landing perfectly in his palms. With a wide grin, he lined up a shot and sunk it.

"Mine," he declared as he picked up his beer along with the cash under it. Pocketing the money, Dean shot another grin at the chick in the skanky outfit. She rushed over to lean against him and use a bright red fingernail to trace the dragon wing wrapping around Dean's shoulder. Dean grabbed her around the waist and leaned over, speaking directly into her ear. She leaned up to kiss him, then pulled away. The skank gathered up his jacket and shirt, blew him a kiss and walked out. She left.

Gordon had the funny feeling something was about to happen. He would be willing to bet cold hard cash the skank would be waiting by that black Impala outside, still holding Dean's shirt and jacket.

Too bad she was going to be waiting for a long damn time. He almost felt sorry for her. Almost. Frigging skank.

* * *

_You see the ones by the wall?_ Draco asked.

_Yeah, got 'em._ Dean's eyes darted back and forth behind his shades. _You see the ones at the bar?_

_I count fourteen in all._

_Fourteen?_ Dean asked with a snort. _Dude, slippin' in your old age. I think you missed the two by the back door. Sixteen._

_Very good, my pet. Now what do you wish to do with them all?_

A smile slid firmly across Dean's face as he removed the dark shades. "Annihilate 'em."

He turned to jerk his head at the dudes in denim and leather, the rough-necks out having a good time on their week off. "Better take off," he advised. "Things are about to get nasty."

They backed away quickly, eyes wide and muttering nervously. So this is what people were going to do when they got a good look at him, huh? Freaking awesome.

"Whoa!" A drunk who had been following the game leaned right into his face. "Where'd you get those eyes?"

Dean smirked. "T.S.O." (Texas State Optical – eyeglasses and contacts)

Then he grabbed a fistful of shirt. "Dude, I'd tell you to head home, but I got better plans." With another grin, he lifted the drunk right off his feet to send sailing across the room at the guys guarding the back door. Well, now he had an out, if he wanted to leave. Which he didn't. Not yet, anyway.

"Next!"

* * *

Gordon started to reach for one of his handguns, but it seemed a wasted effort. Why bother? With those red eyes, Dean had to be actually possessed and not just infected. But what kind of demon had red eyes? Demon eyes were always black. Right? Damn, he wished he knew that for a fact. This business was too dangerous to make assumptions, especially with Dean Winchester tossing hunters around like ragdolls.

He pulled out his holy water and the salt to set on the bar for easy access. Dean might be saving him for last, but Gordon wasn't planning on just waiting around. He filled the hand in his sling with salt before picking up the holy water with his good hand. Dean's back was to him as the kid split a pool table right down the center. Shame. It looked like a nice one, too. He watched as one of the hunters who came with him was thrown through the front window.

The red eyes of the dragon tat glowed and looked at him, right at him. Gordon couldn't say for sure why he thought the eyes had moved, but he did. With a quick snap of his wrist, he managed to splash some holy water across Dean's back.

Dean's head turned slowly to regard him, nasty looking red eyes with cat-like pupils slit down the center.

"Really thought that would work, didn't you?" Dean asked with a hard face. He turned around to face Gordon, those freaky eyes never wavering. He took the vial of holy water right out of Gordon's limp hand.

Hell yeah, he thought that would work. It should've worked! He was screwed, and there was no one to help him out here. The people left in the bar, civilians and hunters alike, were scrambling for the exits while Dean was distracted. With Gordon. Oh, goody.

Dean held up the vial with the rest of the holy water and poured it in his mouth. He swished it around before swallowing. Then he grinned. "Not on something like me."

One hand flashed out, grabbing Gordon by the jacket.

"You know, once upon a time I actually liked you," Dean said as he felt his feet clear the ground, dangling uselessly. "But that was before you decided my brother was the anti-christ. And before I found out what you did to your poor sister." Dean clucked his tongue. "Dude, you have no idea how to look after family."

The red glow in Dean's eyes deepened. "So I'm going to make sure you stay away from my brother."

The other hand wrapped around Gordon's neck, squeezing tightly.

"You kind of pissed me off, Gordie."

Dark spots danced in his vision as the pressure on his neck increased. Gordon struggled in Dean's iron grip, desperately trying to pull in air. "Evil," he barely managed to gasp.

"Yeah," Dean agreed, those eye boring into him. "But you got the wrong brother."

Gordon kicked and clawed, but Winchester was like a freaking robot, and his vision started to swim. Not like this! Just...not like this.

* * *

Dean waited until Walker stopped moving, then he listened for a heart beat. It was there, faint and weak, but still there. So he crushed ol' Gordie's windpipe closed. Try and survive that, bastard, he thought viciously as he allowed the still warm body to drop to the floor.

He scanned the bar for anyone else in need of 'special' attention. Finding the place empty, the sounds of car engines revving and tires squealing outside, Dean figured the whole damn place could use some of his attention.

"Wanna join the fun now?" Dean asked.

_Come, my pet_, Draco purred seductively. _You promised annihilation._

"Yeah," Dean breathed with a grin.

He held his hands out, palms down, at waist height. The warm flush began again. This time Dean didn't fight it, he let it flow. Warmth flowed over and through him, soothing his skin and emotions. When he opened his eyes, he found himself encased by fire but it did not burn. Confused, Dean reached out a hand and the flames reached up, licking his fingers like an excited pup.

"I always hated fire," he muttered.

_But we are part fire,_ Draco insisted. _It loves us_.

"Loves us, huh?" Dean rotated his hand in the flames, watching as it caressed his skin without burning. It felt similar to his reward earlier in the bathroom. Nice. Dean closed his eyes again as the fire rose around him, the tingling sensation of a lover's touch over every square inch of his skin. Really nice.

Speaking of lovers, he had a date.

Pulling himself from this pleasure, Dean walked toward the exit. A pair of dark sunglasses rose from the flames to hover near the front door. He walked into them, cool black plastic settling snugly on his face. Outside, the gorgeous brunette stood nervously by his car holding his shirt and jacket. It was the last car left in the lot.

"You waited," he said as he approached her.

She smiled broadly at him. "You told me to." One hand roamed over his bare chest. "I do what I'm told."

_Perhaps we should keep this one_, Draco suggested. _She might keep the others away from you. Us._

_I'll think about it,_ Dean promised, finally understanding why Draco was so weird about women coming on to him. It was possessive, sure, but it was also leery of outsiders. If they 'kept' her, it would be because she could be trusted. _First, let's check her out._

"So you like dragons, huh?" he asked as he opened the passenger door for her. He watched as her tight, muscled body seemed to flow into the seat with the gracefulness of a housecat. Briefly Dean hoped she wasn't too tame.

She smiled up at him. "They're my favorite."

He returned the smile. "Right answer. What's your name again?"

"Nancy."

He traced her cheek with one finger. "Nice name."

Pulling away with a wink, Dean closed her door. He pulled on his jacket as he rounded the car. The engine started as he tossed his shirt in the back. Dean slid behind the wheel and noticed Nancy slide closer to him.

"How did you start the car like that?" she asked, sounding a little breathless.

Dean slung an arm around her shoulders. "Darlin', we have a lot to show you," he promised as he backed out. When the Impala hit the road, he hugged her gently. "You're gonna love it."

* * *

Dean laid on his stomach as gentle fingers traced his tat all the way down his back and back up.

"Will my eyes be like yours?" Nancy asked, excitement in her tones.

Dean shrugged. "Probably similar." He turned his head to look over his shoulder. From this angle he could see the fresh ink on her shoulder, a small unfilled replica of the one on his back. "Draco says his mate had golden eyes." He grinned at her. "You'd look awesome with gold eyes."

She rubbed her body against his. "How long?" she breathed in his ear. "How long do I have to wait?"

"For what?" he asked her, smiling. "For the chick dragon, or me?"

Nancy caressed his cheek and Dean was liking the idea of them bonded. Dragons mated for eternity. If he carried one mate and she carried the other, it meant she could never leave him. Not willingly. Not without some serious spellwork or one of them removing the dragon, which was just impossible. They were both going into this willingly.

"And afterwards," Nancy breathed in his ear, "you'll be mine."

Dean shook his head. "I'm Draco's." He turned over to pull her close against him. He kissed her hard and swift. "Afterwards you'll be hers, and she belongs to Draco, so you'll be mine," he ended on a growl.

Nancy beamed at him, her body relaxing against his. "Even better."


	14. Chapter 14: The Dead of Winter

_**Chapter 14 – The Dead of Winter **_

"Son of a bitch," Bobby whispered hoarsely. He didn't bother to close the cell. He leaned against the Chevelle's steering wheel. All the color drained out of Bobby's face. He looked even paler underneath the too bright overhead lights of the U-Pump-It Gas and Go.

_Oh, God, please, not Dean,_ Sam thought wildly. _Please, not…_

"Gordon Walker and his crew caught up with Dean at Mathaney's Bar, two hours out from here," Bobby said tonelessly. "Walker's dead. Dean killed him. Then he torched the place."

Sam blinked.

_I let him live once before, Sam._ Dean's voice echoed inside Sam's head. _Not gonna make that same mistake again. _

The only reason Dean didn't kill Gordon that time was because Sam talked him out of it. Never mind that Sam was bloody and battered from fighting Gordon. Never mind that Gordon kidnapped Dean and used him as bait to lure Sam in.

Sam was evil. Sam was the AntiChrist.

"If I was the freakin' AntiChrist, you stupid sonofabitch," Sam wanted to yell at Gordon, "do you really think I'd let you take my brother? You really think I wouldn't use my powers and wipe your sorry ass off the face of the planet?"

Bobby sat there for a moment staring into space. Traffic flashed by them on the highway. It was late. They were always two steps behind Dean, and it never got any better.

After a while Bobby turned on the ignition, and watched for traffic as he pulled out onto the road.

Sam sat there in silence. Gordon Walker was dead, and God help him, Sam didn't care about Gordon.

Sam was worried about Dean.

* * *

Dean drifted, halfway between sleep and wakefulness. Draco curled just underneath Dean's skin. Dude was purring, just like an oversized kitten or something. It was a contented sound that made Dean's skin shiver and tremble slightly, but in a good way. He felt relaxed and loose.

Nancy ran her long slim fingers over his skin, traced the outline of the dragon over his lean, hard muscles. She leaned in, kissed and nipped at the side of Dean's neck. She laid down a line of kisses up to his right earlobe, ran her tongue around the shell of his ear. Dean grunted a little, and Nancy's eyes sparkled mischievously as she lowered her head, ran her tongue down the outline of the tat, across Dean's broad shoulders, and his back.

It took a moment or two before Dean recognized what he was feeling.

Peace.

He was at _peace_. It was nine kinds of crazy.

He was hurt in a hit and run accident almost a month ago. Ended up at County General, arguably the most haunted hospital in America. His perception had been altered by that head injury of his, and he could see all kinds of spooks and fuglies he couldn't see before. Not to mention the fact that he could now move things just by thinking about it. He'd made a deal with a centuries old demon, supposedly to save Sam and Bobby from being horribly killed; allowed the thing to feed off his fears and memories; injured and maimed, killed even, fellow humans --- _hunters _--- and now he felt peaceful inside. Warm and protected, yet powerful.

_Son of a bitch. _

Dean listened to Draco purr, Nancy's delighted laugh as she explored his body. It was nice. Nice to be _wanted_ like this. They'd never leave him. _Never. _Not like Dad did. All those times when Dean would wake up in the middle of the night, only to find a note on his nightstand or more likely, a voicemail message on his cell. "Stay put until I get back" or "I want you to go here and do that."

_Go fetch boy, that's it. Fetch the stick. That's a good little trained dog._

Even worse were the times when he actually woke up while Dad was preparing to ditch him. John Winchester moved as silently as a ghost, but he'd trained Dean to hunt ghosts. John hardly made any noise, but Dean would sometimes wake up anyway. He'd lay there on his side, careful to keep right on breathing, slow and steady, even though his heart pounded away at his ribcage like a panicked, wounded animal, even though the metallic taste of fear flooded his mouth and Dean wanted to open his eyes and sit up and ask, no, _beg_ Dad not to leave him like this.

_Is there something wrong with me, Dad? Is that why you keep leaving me like this? _

Dean wanted to ask, but he never did. Part of it was pride.

Part of it was fear that Dad would look at him with thinly disguised disgust and keep right on packing. Right on _leaving_. Time after time again.

Maybe Dad knew he was awake sometimes but none of it really fucking mattered. Dean would pretend to roll over in his sleep, put his back to John, and if John knew Dean was really awake maybe the old man thought Dean was really giving him permission.

_Bullshit._ Dean laid there with his eyes shut, and he wouldn't open them until he heard the rumble of the girl's engine.

Sometimes his face got wet, and he didn't want to think about why.

And Sam? The arguments between him and Dad had gotten steadily worse through the years. Sam went running off to Stanford, chasing normal, when there was no such thing. Normal was anywhere that Dean wasn't. Dean got it. Only thing was, normal was weak. Normal could be killed in a heartbeat. First Mom. And then Jess. Sam came running back, all right, took up the hunt, and there was no doubt in Dean's mind that the kid was gonna ditch him just like Dad did, the moment that yellow-eyed bastard was dead.

hen they hunted that clown rakshasha at Cooper's Carnival, Sam told old man Cooper that he didn't _want_ normal.

That was a friggin' lie. Dean suspected it then, and he knew it now. Thing was, he didn't realize at the time that this deal was going to work out so well for _him_. This was _his_. Something all of his own. He was light years away from normal now, and that suited Dean just fine. Normal didn't feel this_ good_. Normal didn't feel this _right_.

_Anguigena,_ Draco smiled lazily. He actually liked being called _Dragon's child _now. Draco's tone was warm, possessive. _Mine now. Mine always._

Dean had no problem with _that_.

Nancy nuzzled the small of Dean's back, just above where the dragon's tail began to twist and curl. Dean lifted himself up, moved so fast she gave a slightly startled gasp. He moved like a cat, graceful, fluid. Before she knew it they laid side by side, face to face. Nancy arched her back and slowly ground her body against his. She traced his full lips with the tip of her tongue. The kiss deepened as Dean

pulled her in even closer. Kissing Nancy was like savoring a fresh, ripe strawberry.

_Ah, Dean?_ Draco sounded tentative at best. Almost as though he were about to ask a favor, instead of making a demand, as was his right.

_Dude, you need to work on your timing,_ Dean drawled inside his head. Nancy sighed contentedly as he kissed the pulse point underneath her jaw.

_There is something I forgot to mention. Something else we need to acquire for Nu-Kua._

_Really? What? _Dean worked his way down the long, sleek line of Nancy's neck as she arched against him.

_Precious stones. Jewels. Diamonds. Emeralds._

_You're…you're kidding, right?_

_No. Nu-Kua will expect an offering such as this. The more extravagant, the better. It is the custom among my people, especially following a long separation like the one we endured. It is her right. She will demand it. _

Dean sighed. _You are aware that it's past midnight, right?_

_Will you deny me this?_ Draco tensed underneath Dean's skin. The dragon tat shrunk, all around Dean's shoulders and back, pulling his skin and muscles tight and flat against his bones. It was _not_ a comfortable feeling.

Dean pulled back, with Nancy still in his arms. Her eyes widened, but she lay there quietly. It was almost as though she knew the conversation between Dean and Draco was taking place.

_No. Never. _The tat loosened up almost immediately. That warm glow flooded Dean's body, from the top of his head on down, so overwhelming it made his toes curl up. Draco was pleased. _You got any idea where we can find a high end jewelry store around here? _

_Yes. There is a…a mall nearby. _The word_ mall _sounded alien coming from Draco.

Dean snorted._ Dude. You're like the Yellow Pages now or somethin'?_

_I can smell rubies. Sapphires. I can sense them in the air. _Draco gave a mental shrug._ It's a paltry selection. Meager compared to what I have gifted her with in the past. It would not be what my mate is accustomed to, but it would be a start. Nu-Kua would be pleased. Such a modest gift would turn aside her wrath. _

_Her wrath, huh? All right then. _Dean looked at Nancy and smirked."I gotta go shopping."

He dipped his head down, kissed gently at her collarbone. Nancy shuddered with pleasure as she arched against him and Dean's smirk got even wider. "What kind of jewelry do _you_ like, darlin'?" Dean whispered into her skin.

* * *

Across the street Gus shook his head. _I may be drunk,_ he thought muzzily, _but I ain't stupid. That's not right._

He stood there swaying from side to side as he watched this long white _fogsnakething_ glide into that alleyway by those abandoned apartment buildings. Been a helluva night so far. Maybe it was Jack Daniels talking, but Gus felt incredibly brave and powerful right about now, like he could kick Superman's ass. And _this_? Hell, it was only _fog_.

_Water vapor. Tiny liquid water droplets in the air. _Gus laughed to himself. _Hygroscopic__._ That was a word for ya. Yeah, he remembered some of the stuff from his high school science class.

High school. Heh. Damn, he _hated_ that fucking place. Gus hiccuped noisily as he staggered across the street.

_Better get my ass home. 'm a busy man…din't…don't… have time to in…invest…investrigate some freaky na'ural phenom…prenomenon…oh hell…you know what 'm talkin' about..._

The rest of Gus' muddled brain didn't have a clue.

Thing was, he didn't even go_ near_ the alley. Next thing he knew something long and white whipped out of the darkness and wrapped itself around his ankles.

_Basterd._ Gus tried to kick it off and he couldn't. He couldn't remember how he ended up in the alley on his back with that white fog all around him, He tried to say something, and that was when the_ fogsnakething_ rushed into his open mouth and down his throat.

It was a warm summer night, and Gus froze to death.

* * *

Nancy shrugged into Dean's black t shirt just as Dean pulled on his black boxer briefs. She looked good wearing the shirt. Dean's eyes actually softened a little whenever he looked at her.

Dean slipped his jeans on just as Nancy came up and embraced him from behind.

"Babe, you want your shirt back?" she murmured softly. She stood on tiptoe and kissed his left shoulder blade.

"Nah. Won't need it. Looks better on you." Dean was already thinking ahead, about the security system in the mall. He did hope that he wouldn't have to kill anybody tonight. The rent-a-cops who patrolled the mall were just doing their jobs, and besides, slaughtering defenseless humans would definitely spoil the mood _later_.

Quick in and out should do it. All he really needed was keys to his girl, that empty olive green duffel bag over in the corner, and his leather….

Draco spoke just then. That was no surprise. He sounded panicked, and that was a very big, very _unpleasant_ surprise.

_Not here. No --- _

Dean's head jerked up. His mind was nearly overwhelmed, filled with quick flashes, one mental image after another. Images of Draco ensnared, half buried underneath a mountain of ice, as he strained to get skyward, those gigantic wings of his flailing uselessly, then a scene outside the motel, a large hulking figure shambling across the street, eyes icy silver, clothes and skin caked with thick layers of white frost and blue ice that trailed back across the street to an alleyway.

Dean growled, so low and deep, a sound like that had no business coming out of a human throat. The noise hurt Nancy's ears. She stumbled backwards, covered her ears with her hands, a useless gesture, and Dean turned to face her, those ruby serpent eyes of his flashing.

"Dean, what---" Nancy gave a startled yelp as Dean folded his arms around her, jerked her to him roughly. She had just enough time to see wings, the color and substance of smooth bronze leather, lift themselves up from Dean's well-muscled back and shoulders. They were huge. The wingtips scraped against the walls, tore gouges all along the corners of the ceiling. Dean pressed Nancy close to him as his wings curved protectively around them both.

The room exploded into a cloud of frigid air, dust and blackness.

* * *

_Wurm._

Something tickled the end of Dean's nose.

_Wake up, wurm._

It was _cold_. Dean was _cold_. He wanted to get up, or at least roll over and tell Nance to turn on the heater, or get another blanket. But that wasn't right. Wasn't winter. It was summer.

Dean caught a glimpse of something white with five fingers headed towards his face. He jerked back, growling. Didn't go very far. Whatever this was had him by his throat, pushed up into the wall. Dean's bare feet dangled a good two feet off the floor.

The thing smiled, a toothy grin, bloody ice caked between its teeth._ Hello, wurm._

Dean stared for a moment. It was something hellish, a patchwork of torn human flesh and bone, frost and ice. Half of its forehead was gone, and from the way the edges of the fanned back and over something had gone inside and then pushed its way out. Specks of grey brain matter glistened like concrete chips embedded in ice. Its eye sockets were silver, but from the way its eyes roamed over Dean's body, looked at him and nearly through him with sheer delight, it was obvious this was one of Draco's old running buddies.

God, he was _cold, _right down to his core_._ So cold it burned. Dean could turn his head a little, and he could breathe. That was _it._ He could feel Draco, fiery, rageful, but it wasn't enough to warm either of them. Dean glanced downward. His body was covered in a thick coating of blue ice. There was some sort of thick grey chain hanging around his neck, and the octagon that hung from the chain was inscribed with runes he'd never seen before. It was some sort of containment amulet, then.

Snow whirled in the air all around, despite the fact that they where inside, despite the fact that the far wall was completely gone. It was mid-summer out there: hell had frozen over in here.

_Nancy, where the hell was ---_

There. She lay on the floor over by the bed, sprawled on her side. Too pale, too quiet.

_Wurm. _The thing thumped the side of Dean's head with its thumb and forefinger._ Need you to listen to me now. _

"Fuck you," Dean grated out loud.

It laughed. _Wanna talk to the wurm now, monkey boy._

Draco surged up to the forefront. "Dynii," he snarled, using Dean's mouth. "Filth. Scum."

_There he is,_ the thing crooned. _There's my wurm._ It looked Dean over with approval. _Different flesh._ _Feisty. Spirited. I like that. Missed you, wurm. You always fun to play with. Looking for me? Found me._

_F-friend of y-yours? _Dean scowled inside his head._ R-real r-rocket s-scientist, h-huh?_

_An elemental. They're not all this...eloquent._

It suddenly occurred to Dean that stuttering was not a good sign. Neither was the slurring of his thought voice. It was getting harder to think, harder to even put together a complete sentence.

_Locked you in good this time, wurm. Others sent me to fetch you. Gonna walk you back there. Then we'll play for a while. Just like before._ The walking ice cube grinned so wide the ice on its face cracked, from ear to ear. Pieces of frozen flesh fell off. Muscles and tendons cracked as it swirled its head to look at Nancy, silent and helpless on the floor.

_Don't need that piece of meat. Worthless. Only need you._ _Be done with it. _It sighed, as though it was doing Dean a huge favor. _Kill her quick._

Dean saw_ red_.

He heard Draco gasp, literally gasp in surprise and shock, as fire surged through them both. It hurt like hell, but Dean didn't care. He was _pissed_, and that was more than enough to make him ignore any pain he might have felt.

The medallion on his chest flared up with a bright, cold white light that was washed away underneath a wave of fire. Dean's hands closed around the dynii's thick, ice covered throat, and all he could think about was how he had lost people over the years. Mom. Cassie. Dad. Even Sam. Everyone left him. Everyone. They either left on their own, or they were taken. And now this bastard was going to take Nancy, too?

Ruby red serpent eyes locked onto startled silver ones as the ice melted, and the fire rushed down Dean's arms, his fingers, poured into frozen flesh and bone, thick blue ice.

The dynii screamed out, and Dean smiled.

* * *

"Babe?" Nancy said hazily. She felt Dean's arms around her, and that made her relax a little, made her smile. She was still wearing Dean's black t shirt. It took her a minute or two to figure out that they were sitting in the front bench of the Impala.

The motel was on fire, fully involved. The residents of the motel stood around watching as it burned to the ground.

"Uh…what just happened?"

Dean sighed. Police and firemen rushed all around them. No one seemed to notice them. "One of Draco's buddies paid us a visit." His embrace tightened, just a little. He smiled, and that red glint behind those dark sunglasses flashed bright and fierce for a second. "You okay?"

"Now I am." She settled back, laid her head against his chest. "What now?" Nancy said sleepily.

Dean smirked. "Don't get too comfortable, princess. We're going to the mall."

* * *

Ronnie just stared. They were paying him minimum wage. Wasn't worth getting killed over.

"Glad you decided to be reasonable about this," the red eyed dude with that kick-ass dragon tat rumbled. He shouldered that duffel bag full of loot from Irvine's Finest, the ritziest store in the Cross Keys Mall. Ronnie somehow had the feeling that none of the security cameras would work when it came to this dude.

Ronnie just nodded. He tried not to stare as the woman this dude hung with walked by dressed only in an oversized black t shirt. She had long well muscled legs that no doubt went all the way up to her chin. She also had a couple of fully loaded shopping bags in one hand from a store they just waltzed into. Ronnie didn't give a damn about that, either.

She was a babe. Ronnie wouldn't have minded frisking her, nice and long and thorough, if you knew what he was sayin'...

Apparently the dragon dude could read minds too, 'cause those red eyes of his flashed dangerously and he growled like a German Shepherd from hell. The vibration from the sound rippled over Ronnie's skin, and he knew in that split second he'd screwed up. Big time.

This voice inside Ronnie's rumbled furiously. _You will respect our mate, human_, and then it was like God or somebody thumped Ronnie upside the head.

Just a touch. Not enough to make him leave this world, just enough to scramble what little brainpower he had and knock him right out.


	15. Chapter 15: Fiery Reunion

Chapter 15 **Fiery Reunion**

Nancy slipped an arm through Dean's as they walked swiftly out of the mall to the big black car. He wasn't walking slow, but he certainly wasn't running either. After refusing to give her all the details behind the motel burning down, she had no choice but to trust him implicitly. Somehow, when she looked in those amazing red eyes, she felt safe and protected.

His strong arm wrapped around her waist, giving her a one-armed hug as they reached the car. "In," he said simply.

Nancy clambered into the passenger seat, falling harder on the leather than she intended in her rush.

"You okay?" Dean's voice demanded from outside the car, at the trunk.

"Fine!" Nancy called out, her cheeks hot with embarrassment. Yeah, almost fall flat on her face in front of a real live dragon. What was she doing here? How could she possibly measure up for something which was so old, so wise? She heard a slamming noise and felt the car rock gently.

"You sure?" He appeared outside her door. Gentle hands checked her over before resting against the sore spot on the back of her head. "Is it better?"

She smiled at his sweet concern, one hand caressing from his cheek down his neck and coming to rest on a broad, bare shoulder. "Much," Nancy promised. "We should've picked you up some new shirts while we were here."

Dean chuckled and shook his head at her before his face went still and serious. "Look, I have to ask you this, and I'll totally understand if you say no."

She waited impatiently as he crouched beside her, his head slightly lower than hers, and cleared his throat a few times. "Uh, Draco, he's ready to, you know, call. Her." His ruby eyes dropped as he breathed out, "His mate."

It hadn't taken much to convince her Dean was telling the truth, that he wasn't crazy. Nancy wasn't sure why she believed him so readily, maybe because she just wanted to believe in him. Even so, she would never have believed a dragon, or someone bonded with a dragon, could be so sweet and so caring.

"About time," she told him with a smile. His head snapped up to look at her, those beautiful eyes wide with surprise. Nancy waited for him to respond.

"We better go," he said softly, but Dean didn't move, still staring at her. She heard the sound of sirens approaching.

"Come on, baby," Nancy said. "Let's go find that dragon."

His face split in the broadest grin she'd ever seen as his eyes took on a soft glow. He closed her door before rushing around to the driver's side. Dean slid in as police cars screamed into the parking lot. She grabbed Dean's jacket from the back seat to hand to him. As he shrugged into it, she found his shades waiting for them in the center of the seat. He slipped them on his face.

"Did we see anything?" Nancy asked as Dean backed out of their parking space.

"Nah," Dean replied with a shake of his head. "Then you have to fill out a statement. We were, uh, clothes shopping."

Nancy slid across the seat. "For our honeymoon?" she asked, leaning against his side.

Dean chuckled as he wrapped an arm around her. "Sure, babe. What ever you say."

They drove along the outside edge of the huge freaking parking lot. Dean found an entrance the cops hadn't been able to block yet and drove right out. They didn't even have to answer any questions. Nancy snuggled closer, her mind whirling with curiosity about what it was like having a dragon sharing your body. It had to be absolutely amazing!

* * *

Dean's body thrummed with anticipation as he led the way into the large deserted warehouse. It was on the edge of town in an industrial sector. All the work in this town had dried up years ago when the factory closed down, so there was no chance of being spotted or interrupted here. Draco slithered just under his skin, moving constantly, causing his tat to vibrate with energy.

_Dean_, Draco said, _I require more energy to call her. I must feed. Like it was back in the hospital._

Dean sighed, dropping his head. Oh, crap.

"Baby," Nancy was at his side, one hand on his shoulder, "what's wrong? We are doing this, right?"

Dean managed to force a smile, for her sake. "Uh, yeah. But there's something we have to do first." He glanced around. The floor was nasty, every surface here covered with dust and dirt from years of neglect.

"Grab a blanket from the trunk," he ordered, handing her the keys. "And stay out of the big box!" Dean shouted after her.

"So which memory this time?" Dean asked in a shaky voice. "A real nasty one, huh?"

_It is for our mate_. Draco's voice was soothing. _I promise not to take too much._

Dean took off his shades, hanging them from the front of his shirt. He wanted to get this part over with. The sooner the better. Nancy came rushing back with an old, scratchy wool blanket. She smiled when she looked him in the eye. This chick was seriously weird, and absolutely perfect for him and Draco.

Without a word, Dean took the blanket and spread it out on the floor. He sat down on it, wondering when they would start.

"Dean?" Nancy asked and he could hear a tendril of fear in her voice.

_Tell her to sit so you may rest your head in her lap_, Draco ordered. _Perhaps she can help as well._

Dean patted the floor beside him. Nancy sunk down, one hand running from the top of his head down his neck and back. He leaned back and scooted forward until his head rested in her lap.

"I don't know how long this is going to take," Dean warned her. "Just, uh, don't go anywhere?" He hated that he sounded so desperate, so needy.

Nancy nodded at him, her brow creased with concern. He closed his eyes as her fingers caressed his face.

Dean opened his eyes to find himself in a sickeningly familiar motel room. His cell waited on the bedside dresser, silent. It wouldn't ring again from the right person for nearly a year. Dean flipped it open, hoping he was wrong. He called Dad's cell.

No answer. Voicemail.

He called again.

Voicemail.

Dean called every one of Dad's contacts they had seen or spoken with since Sam went to college, his anxiety mounting with each call. No one had seen or heard from him in the past two weeks, and no one was concerned. It wasn't unusual for Dad to stay out of contact with them for months at a time, but with him? Dad called him at least every other day when they were on separate hunts, to check in and see how it was going, offer advice.

Dean waited until after lunch to call again. Dad could be just hung-over. This time an automated message about this phone not being in service kicked in. Dean felt nauseous.

Abandoned.

Mom. Sam. Dad.

They all left. Everyone he really cared about left him. Some, like Cassie, had even gone so far as to kick him out.

Nobody wanted him.

_No one, except us_, crooned a now familiar voice. Warmth rushed through him, pleasure filling the empty spaces. Coming back to himself, Dean felt warm hands on his face and heard his name being called, from far away.

With a gasp Dean sat up, pulling Nancy with him.

"Dean, baby," Nancy sounded really worried, "what happened? Are you okay?"

Breathing heavy, not quite over the feelings of hopelessness and abandonment, but still flush with his reward, Dean hung on to her shoulders with both hands. When his breathing regained some normalcy, he nodded.

"Yeah, I'm good." He released her. "Help me up."

Brow furrowed and a sweet frown on her face, Nancy stood to offer him a hand. Dean took it, nearly pulling her back down as he rose to his feet.

"Time to find a dragon," Dean told her, watching her face light up. Draco slithered just under the surface, energized and ready.

Using chalk, Dean followed Draco's instructions to the letter. He and Nancy set everything up. Dean drew a special symbol on the floor he did not recognize, adding words in a language long dead and forgotten. Nancy arranged candles in a circle outside the symbol, lighting each one when Draco said. Dean stood in the center of the symbol, head thrown back and chest thrust out, as Draco asserted complete control. Strange hissing whispers erupted from his throat, the language foreign and painful. The air around him crackled with the spell, energy visible in the air in transparent bands of blues and reds. He could smell fire and sulphur and a sickeningly sweet scent which he could not identify.

From the bands of energy a dark form began to take shape. It was black smoke, like a regular demon, but the smoke had form, giant wings protruding out to the sides. Dean beckoned Nancy into the symbol. She tripped as she rushed forward, her face blushing with embarrassment. She stood just outside of the dragon smoke. It swirled around her and Nancy watched, eyes wide and an eager look on her face. Draco's mate slowed to roam over Nancy's body slowly, as if she were inspecting a used car before purchasing. Dean had the feeling the other dragon was satisfied and the black smoke billowed out, losing its shape, encasing the young woman.

Slowly it seeped into her, moving through the pores of her skin. When all the dark smoke was gone, Nancy collapsed bonelessly into Dean's arms. She was unresponsive.

"What happened?" Dean demanded. "Did it work?"

_They require sleep. The bonding takes time. Remember?_

Dean sighed as he gathered her up to carry to the car. "Not really," he admitted.

_That is because I allowed our bonding to take place over several days_, Draco explained. _I'm afraid my mate is not so patient. _The dark chuckle brought a smile to Dean's face. He looked forward to when their mate woke.

* * *

Dean sipped at his fourteenth cup of coffee as he watched Nancy sleep. She had stirred once, about four hours ago, moaned and then gone lax again. Checking his watch, Dean saw they had been out for close to twelve hours.

"You do know the human body can only go so long without water, right?" Dean asked aloud.

_They will wake_, Draco told him again. _It will not be much longer._

"You said that two hours ago," Dean argued. "Maybe we should take her to the hospital, so they can hook up an IV."

_No. Wait._

Dean sighed heavily, obeying his orders. Wait. This was the most difficult order to follow. Hell, feeding Draco would at least help pass the time.

_Oh, my pet_, Draco chuckled. _You are too precious. ... Look. Our mate awakens!_

Dean set his coffee aside, waiting anxiously for Nancy to open her eyes. Her body moved slowly as the deep sleep subsided. Perfect golden eyes, with dragon irises like his, opened to peer up at him. Dean felt his heart flutter with relief and utter joy. It had worked!

She sat slowly, peering around at their surroundings.

"I took you back to the motel," Dean explained quickly, wondering how much she would remember.

She turned to look him in the eye again. One hand lifted, he assumed to stroke his cheek the way she had back in the warehouse. In a blur, it shot out striking his face hard enough to slap his head to the side.

Dean pressed a hand against the stinging flesh. "What the hell was that for?" he demanded.

Her eyes flared a brighter gold. "For not coming for me sooner," she snapped viciously. "Do you have any idea where I've been? Waiting for you?"

Dean opened his mouth to answer, though he honestly didn't have a good answer handy, but she leapt off the bed and began to pace as she ranted.

"Hell! Yes, in the darkest, most depressing icy corner of Hell, waiting for you!" Her golden eyes flashed with indignation. "Protecting my virtue from human style demons." She snorted loudly.

_My beautiful mate doesn't understand about County General_, Draco hissed as he writhed with pleasure deep within Dean. _Doesn't she have the fire?_

_Fire. That's one way of looking at it_, Dean admitted. _So are you going to tell her or what?_

"Do you have any idea how miserable it is down there without you?" she demanded, still pacing. "What have you been doing up here all this time?" She froze in the center of the room. "You've been shopping, haven't you?" One hand waved up and down to indicate her human body. "How many test drives have you taken?"

_Dude, you are so taking this one_, Dean insisted. Mentally he shrank back, forcing Draco to use his body.

He felt the darkness within him surge forward, his mouth opening with words not from his mind.

"Nu-Kua," Draco said smoothly in Dean's voice, "my most glorious mate."

Her eyes flashed again. "Trying to flatter me?"

His face smiled broadly. "I don't have to. You are perfection itself. Do you not like this vessel?" He eyed Nancy up and down. "She was most willing."

"The vessel is acceptable," she snapped. "I asked why you were delayed." One foot tapped impatiently on the floor. "If you're not going to tell me," her voice raised to a shout, "then you force me to..."

One of Dean's hands waved through the air and she froze. Dean felt Draco use his mind, his new abilities, to freeze Nancy's body. Her eyes rolled around in confusion.

"Now that we have your attention," Draco said softly. They waited a moment, to be certain she remained bound. With another wave of his hand, she slid across the cheap carpet to come to rest mere inches in front of him, eyes wide and frightened.

"I've been trapped for the past couple of years, in this time. That would be centuries for you, as you well know." One hand gently traced the side of Nancy's face. "The only willing vessels I could find were ailing or dying. None could provide the strength I needed to send for you."

His head lowered to place a kiss on her cheek.

"I acquired this vessel mere days ago." He kissed her jaw, his lips against her skin as he spoke. "We found the female yesterday." He paused with their mouths so close their lips brushed lightly when he said, "I would never betray my beloved."

Dean felt his mind relax, the energy bonding Nancy's body released. She surged up, arms wrapping around his neck.

"Why didn't you just say so?" she demanded.

Draco pulled back, allowing Dean some control again, now that it was safe. Together they grinned at their mate.

"I'll do better next time," Dean promised as he hugged her to him. "So can I see your tat now?" He waggled his eyebrows at her as a broad smile spread across her face. That sure looked like a yes. Score!


	16. Chapter 16: Bound By Fire And Sky

_**Chapter 16 - Bound by Fire and Sky**_

Draco was nervous.

Nu-Kua stood quietly, clothed in Nancy's smooth, naked body, as she examined the jewel offering that was spread out on the floor at her feet. and the queen sized bed. The fire in those golden eyes of hers was soft, mellow, but it could flare up at any time. She did not kneel to examine all the gold, rubies and sapphires spread out around her, she merely stepped over them, around them. There were solid gold pendants, silver rings encrusted with small, perfect emeralds. The floor was covered with expensive jewelry and loose stones.

Nu-Kua's expression was unreadable.

_What if…what if she rejects it?_ Dean thought quietly.

_Do not even say that,_ Draco murmured back. _My beloved has very high standards. We can only hope she judges us to be worthy. _

Dean was nervous enough for the two of them. He pulled his jeans and boxer briefs off, stripped down to his bare skin. He didn't like the way his fingers shook. Draco was too pre-occupied watching Nu-Kua to notice.

Dean forced himself to breathe, slowly, in and out, as he looked around the room. It was a high end hotel room this time. Penthouse suite, and he didn't even have to pull out cash or a fake credit card. All he had to do was saunter into the place, stroll up to the counter, lean in and smirk at the desk clerk. Dude got one look at Dean's eyes as they flashed full-on obi wan kenobi on him, and it was "Of course, Mr. Spielberg, our penthouse suite is available."

This life surely did have its perks.

That entire wall over there was one large mirror, as was the ceiling over the bed. Dean tried not to stare at Nancy. Tried to compose himself. Nothing worked. This looked like a scene from a movie, with all the mirrored reflections, the candle light, the expensive jewelry strewn all over the floor. And in the middle of it was his – _their_ – mate.

She was beautiful. Glorious. Nancy's - _Nu-Kua's _- golden eyes caught and reflected the light from all the candles placed around the bed and the corners of the room. She stood there staring at him, and he couldn't read her expression.

It wasn't about the sex. This certainly wasn't their first time together. Far from it, but this…_this_ was different. Permanent. Eternal. They were going to bond now, he and Draco to Nancy and Nu-Kua. Dean hadn't felt this awkward the very first time he'd ever had sex. It was his tenth grade teacher, Mrs. Starling. She always wore black underwear and she…

_Focus, youngling. Focus._ Draco murmured roughly. Dean struggled to settle his mind. His breath stuttered in his throat, made his chest hitch. That was more than enough for Draco to notice.

_What is it, my child?_

_Nothing._

_Speak to me. _

_It's…not that I don't want this. I do. You know I do. _

_But?_

Nu-Kua finally stopped in the middle of the room, and the expression on her face grew pensive. Her lips parted, and Draco and Dean held their breath.

"This is sufficient. For now," Nu-Kua murmured softly.

_My beloved,_ Draco murmured. He exhaled. Dean didn't.

Dean looked down at the floor, at that handful of solid gold bracelets that lay in a jumble at his feet. They were missing something, something personal that she would like. Draco remained silent as Dean knelt down and picked up the bracelets.

Dean cupped the jewelry in his hands. He willed fire into his fingertips and the gold began to melt. He had something in mind. He had an idea that Nu-Kua would like something more…personal.

He reached out with his mind and molded the metal, shaped it, as Nu-Kua stood there watching, suddenly attentive. Draco held his breath again, almost vibrated underneath Dean's skin. Human and dragon shared some memories. Dean remembered seeing this design. Maybe she'd like this.

The object in Dean's hands still glowed, molten hot. Dean lifted his hands to his lips and blew softly on it. The metal cooled instantly.

He looked at Nancy/Nu-Kua with a slight smile. "I thought you might like this," Dean whispered softly, almost shyly, and he wondered why he was whispering in the first place.

The object in Dean's hands was a dragon collar that was hinged in the back. The dragon design was intricate, flowing effortlessly from one side to the next. The design was of two dragons intertwined, one bronze with ruby red eyes, and the other ebony black, with gold eyes. Properly worn, the two dragons would flow around the wearer's neck, with the twin heads crossing over each other just below the front of the collarbone. A gold dragon's head pendant hung beneath the two heads. It was ornate, truly fit for a queen.

_Magnificent,_ Draco breathed.

Nu-Kua stepped forward, took the collar from Dean's hands, and then stepped back. She examined the necklace, slowly, carefully. She seemed to take forever.

"I accept this," she said softly, finally, as she slipped it around her neck. Nu-Kua smiled, a bright, warm expression that filled the room with even more light.

Dean didn't move. Not yet. As Draco had explained to him, the bonding ceremony would progress according to Nu-Kua's wishes. It was her right.

And it was obvious to Dean and Draco that she was not finished yet.

Nu-Kua cleared her throat. Draco immediately fell silent. "I have examined this body. She is…suitable," Nu-Kua said grandly. "I accept my beloved's bounty. And this," she touched the collar and Dean nodded, slightly, "is more than suitable. I thank you for it. Now let me examine my mate's vessel. Fully examine him, as is my right."

Dean stood still as she walked up to him. Draco purred a little, secretly pleased that his child, his_ anguigena_, never needed to be forced to participate. Dean's willingness was a source of constant amazement to Draco, but the darkness never would admit it.

Nu-Kua walked around Dean as he stepped forward into the middle of the room. He put his shoulders back, stood there with his arms down at his sides, relaxed and easy as her eyes roamed all over his body.

_You're handsome now, child. Striking, but…I wish to see how you looked before my mate acquired you._ She stepped up to him, ran her long slim fingers down his bare right arm as she stared up into Dean's eyes.

It didn't hurt. None of it did. Dean didn't know how, but he knew his eyes were normal again, knew that the dragon tat on his back and shoulders was gone, just for an instant. Nu-Kua lightly ran her fingers across his shoulders, his thighs as she walked around him.

Finally she nodded, and sighed. When she pulled her hand away Dean felt his eyes redden, felt the dragon re-assert itself in his skin.

_Dean Michael Winchester._ Nu-Kua thought each word carefully, precisely. _Eldest son of John and Mary Winchester. Older brother to Samuel Winchester._ Nu-Kua's golden eyes narrowed to slits. _You were a hunter. _

_Yes._

_The blood of all manner of beings is on your hands. _

_Yes. _Dean nodded. _My family and I hunted evil._

_And yet you gave yourself to my mate._ She cocked her head to one side. Her eyes widened a little, seemingly went blank as she considered this. _Fully, of your own free will?_

_Yes._

_Why?_

_To save my brother. And my friend._

_Then tell me, pet. Do you consider my beloved and I evil?_

_There was a time I would have,_ Dean thought simply.

_You would have hunted us?_ Nu-Kua lifted her chin imperiously, stared directly into Dean's eyes.

Dean stared back, unblinking. _In a heartbeat._

_But not now._

_No. _

Nu-Kua raised Nancy's right hand towards Dean's face, and he bowed his head, not only allowed the touch but leaned into it.

_I wish to examine you even further. Let me see,_ she murmured softly.

Dean nodded again and let her in.

* * *

"Evening, Miss Lucy," Sheriff Baker drawled smoothly. He touched his uniform hat when he spoke to her. Lucy Palmer snorted. He did a pretty good imitation of a normal human but, as always, she wasn't fooled, not one bit. There weren't any humans left on the Elkhorn police force. Not any more.

"I see those eyes of yours, sheriff," Lucy called out as the young man stepped onto the porch. "See the way your skin looks, too. Pale and grey. Dead like the rest of you."

"Now Miss Lucy, I don't know what you're talking about," Baker chuckled as the frail old woman sat stiffly in her wheelchair, her thin mouth set in a hard line of disapproval.

"Yeah, you do. Might not be as young as I used to be, but I still got eyes. I can see. And I know why you things keep me around, too."

"Yes ma'm," Baker said politely. "And why is that?"

"I'm the front, the cover for everything you things do in this town," she snapped. "Good Lord, I'm old, I'm not stupid! How many times are we going to have this same damn conversation, Beelzebub?"

"As many times as you want to, Miss Lucy," Baker smiled. The front door opened just then and Eric Palmer stuck his head out. He was the youngest mayor the town had ever had. "Evening, Roy, thought I heard you out here. Momma, you been behaving yourself?"

Lucy snorted. "Like I need some undead corpse to tell me how to act. Think I don't know you're not my boy? Bastard. Tried to get you out of my son, and look where that got me."

"Come on in, Roy," Eric drawled. The sheriff stepped inside and as soon as the door closed behind him his skin darkened with rage as his horns thrust themselves out of his forehead. "I'm not Beelzebub. Wouldn't you think after all this time that old bitch would get it right?"

He hated this life. Baker longed for the old days, when he flew effortlessly and mankind quaked in fear at the very sight of him.

Eric laughed as his pupils went to slits. The color of his eyes deepened to greenish gold. "Don't mind her. We're about done here, and so is she."

The dragon inside Baker huffed as Baker's eyes blazed orange. "It's about time. Well?"

"The dynii's dead."

"No great loss." He followed Palmer into the spacious well lit kitchen. It would be a shame to leave all this, the big mansion up on the hill, but there was a whole wide world out there. They'd find another. "Was it ---?"

"_Draconêdismos Vermithrax_? The wurm? Yes." Eric pulled a kitchen chair out and sat down. Baker pulled up the opposite chair. "Finally decided to leave County General. Took him long enough. Got the word from a couple of our brethren who managed to jump into a meatsuit who worked there. Seems that a Dean Winchester was admitted to County a month ago. A hunter. Hit and run accident. Had head injuries."

"Oh, shit."

Palmer laughed. "It gets better. Rumor is that this hunter gave himself freely to the wurm, and you know what that means."

Baker grinned hopefully. "The hunter's dead?"

Palmer snorted. "You wish. They've bonded. Give you one guess what's on Draconêdismos' agenda next. Or are you so stupid you need two guesses?"

Baker rolled his eyes. "Only need one. All right. I'll go round up the others. Time for a good old fashioned wurm hunt."

"Yeah, you do that." Eric Palmer got up and walked over to the walk-in kitchen pantry. He opened the door and turned on the light. The vessel's eyes went pitch black as he smiled down at Eric Palmer senior. The older man was hogtied, sat with his back against the wall, a gag stuffed into his mouth.

The dragon smiled. "Gonna spend the last bit of quality time with Pop here, and then dear old Mom. For old times sake, y' know?"

Sheriff Baker laughed and handed over his taser.

* * *

All of the images, all through the years flashed through Dean's mind. The hunts, the people he couldn't save. Most of all, the people he'd known and loved, how they left him, one by one.

"You're afraid," Nu-Kua said simply.

Dean stared at the floor.

"Everyone who loves you, leaves you," she said softly. Dean's head jerked up. The timbre of the voice changed. It wasn't Nu-Kua anymore. It was _Nancy_.

_They were not worthy of you, my child,_ Draco whispered softly. _None of them were. The father. The brother. None of the others. You gave yourself to me, freely and without reservation. You are special, Dean. I've always known that. _

"You think we're going to leave you. Never, my love," Nancy shook her head. "Never." She raised her hand with her palm towards Dean, fingers slightly outspread.

Dean copied the gesture.

"Your hand is mine, my hand is yours," Draco rumbled, using Dean's mouth and vocal chords.

"What is your name?" Nu-Kua whispered.

"Draconêdismos Vermithrax."

"Dean Winchester."

"Your name is within me," Nancy/Nu-Kua said proudly.

"What is your name?" Dean and Draco whispered.

"Nu-Kua."

"Nancy Sommers."

"Your name is within me," Dean and Draco whispered. "We are the fire. It burns within us. It sustains us."

Nancy and Dean stepped into each others' arms.

"We are the air. It surrounds us," Nancy and Nu-Kua whispered.

The air around them ignited, softly, gently, rolling over bare skin.

"We are bound by fire, sky and the fury of the four elements," all four said together.

Nancy's eyes glowed bright golden as she placed her hand on Dean's right shoulder. Black flames rimmed her palm and her fingertips, and when she pulled her hand away there was a perfect replica of the tattoo on her back, this time on Dean Winchester's right shoulder.

"We are bound by are our love and our hearts." Dean placed his hand on the outline of his dragon tattoo on Nancy's shoulder. Dean's fingertips glowed, and Nancy's tattoo filled in with the same bronze color as the larger tattoo on his back.

"It flows through us. We breathe and we love. It is our will."

Dean and Nancy closed their eyes, lost themselves in each other's bodies. The mirrored ceiling and wall reflected candlelight and fire, the soft light reflected off the red and golden eyes of the two dragons, one black and one bronze, that rose up, entwined, in the air all around them both.

* * *

They stopped for the night. To sleep, and to rest. Sam didn't want to, and Bobby had to. There was no sense in running around like chickens with their damn fool heads chopped off. Last thing they needed at this point was to get into a car accident, or draw law enforcement's attention in some other way.

Bobby Singer lay on his side, blinking into darkness that was broken sometimes by the yellow and white wash of headlights from the highway. He listened to Sam Winchester breathe fitfully. Kid was having nightmares, apparently about his brother.

Bobby couldn't blame him for that one.

From the moment Bobby saw that red glint in his eyes, he had the feeling that Dean was doomed. Had doomed himself, willingly, just to save Sam. Winchesters apparently had the lock on self-sacrifice; John had done it for Dean, and Dean obviously had no problem doing the same for Sam. Making deals with demons was always a bad business, and what made the hairs on the back of Bobby's neck stand up was how relaxed Dean looked.

Sam couldn't see it. Dean wasn't fighting this thing.

Sam couldn't see it, because Sam was the reason.

Bobby meant what he said. They'd find Dean, all right, but this story might not have a happy ending. He'd warned Sam, but saying something like that was a helluva lot different than being there when the moment came.

_If we can't save Dean, I'll put him out of his misery_, Bobby thought as he drifted off to sleep. _Don't know how yet, but I will._ It would be a mercy, something that any hunter worth his or her salt would do for any fellow human being. That was a load that Bobby could bear. He'd done it once already, watched his wife Ruth possessed by that demon, killed her because he felt he had no choice. Sam couldn't take that weight.

Hell of a thing, having to watch family die at your own hands.


	17. Chapter 17: Respect

Chapter 17 – **Respect**

Dean and Nancy sat in a small greasy diner waiting for their breakfast at a table by the windows. They must look strange, both of them wearing dark shades at this early hour indoors. Nancy giggled at a couple of men who kept giving them odd looks from the counter. Dean grinned back at her.

"I've got to..." She waved a hand toward the restrooms.

Dean gave her a nod. "Don't take too long," he warned.

Nancy flashed a huge grin as she stood up. One hand reached out to stroke his cheek. "Okay, baby."

He watched her walk away, enjoying the sight of how her hips swayed gently and the way his t-shirt hung limply over her smaller frame, fabric clinging in all the right places.

Then a young gal, maybe eighteen, walked in the front door. She crossed right in his line of sight. His gaze left Nancy, who was on the verge of disappearing into the bathroom anyway, to follow the supple young body. Niiice...

Suddenly his shoulder hurt. The lines of his small tat burned in his flesh. Dean slammed a hand over his shoulder and it was hot to the touch. Really hot.

_Discipline_, Draco hissed. _There is no disrespecting our mate._

"Shit," he hissed through clenched teeth.

"Honey?" The elderly waitress who had taken their order came rushing back. "Are you all right?"

Dean couldn't respond, pain flaring down his arm and across his chest. Tears sprung from his eyes as he clutched at his shoulder and his chest seized too tight to breathe.

"Merv!" The waitress shouted. "Call an ambulance!"

"Dean!" Nancy's voice came from across the room. Dean was filled with a longing for her to be close, convinced she could alleviate the pain. She raced forward and pushed the waitress aside. "Baby, what is it?"

One hand covered his over his shoulder. Instantly the pain receded.

"Arm," he whispered, nodding down at the currently useless limb. Her gentle hand ran down the length of his arm, pain scattering into nothingness at her touch. Her other hand rested absently on his chest while she rubbed his arm, and he could breathe again. Nancy seemed to understand, because both hands smoothed over his chest now.

"Better?" she demanded.

After a few deep breaths, Dean nodded at her.

Nancy turned to the waitress. "We'll take that order to go." She focused on him. "You don't move."

"Yes, ma'am," he agreed readily while she glared.

A bag containing their breakfast arrived shortly.

"You sure you don't want that ambulance?" The waitress demanded as she took the cash from Nancy.

"He'll be fine," Nancy snapped, tugging on him to leave.

Dean followed her docilely out to the car. As they approached the Impala, she held out her hand. Sheepishly, Dean handed over his keys. He was pretty sure she knew exactly what had happened back there. Nancy barely glanced at him as she slid behind the wheel. Dean sat in the passenger seat, which felt really weird for him, especially with a chick driving. Well, granted, Nancy wasn't just any chick.

She drove around until she found a park. In the park, Nancy chose a spot near a small pond. With the engine off they could hear the early morning noises of birds awakening, the flutter of wings, rustling of leaves in the gentle morning breeze.

"Sorry?" Dean offered lamely.

Nancy turned slowly to regard him. She removed her shades, exposing bright golden eyes. "You scared the crap out of me!" One hand slapped in him his still sore shoulder. "Do NOT do that again!"

Dean winced, grabbing his shoulder again. "Sorry," he repeated.

"What was that all about?" Nancy demanded. "Oh, don't tell me." She rolled her eyes. "You were leering at that jailbait slut, weren't you?"

Dean shrugged helplessly, offering a half-hearted grin.

"Draco won't put up with that kind of crap," she informed him in a hard voice. Dean nodded. He already got that message – in spades.

"And neither will I." She leaned forward to pull off his shades. "Take off your jacket."

Confused but not willing to push the envelope here, Dean shrugged slowly out of his jacket.

"Now the shirt," Nancy ordered.

Dean pulled it off over his head. She rested a soft hand directly on the black dragon tat. It was cool and soothing. He let out a sigh of relief as the last of the pain ebbed away.

"Baby, this means you are all mine. You do get that?" She rolled up the oversized short sleeve of the shirt she was wearing. She pointed out her small bronze tat. "And I'm all yours. You don't need anyone else."

Dean pressed his palm against it as he leaned towards her. "No, I don't." She did not lean towards him, so he aimed for her neck. Gentle kisses were applied against her skin. "So you shouldn't worry about competition."

The chuckle vibrated against his lips. "I'm not," Nancy declared. "I'm worried about what Draco will do to you."

_I don't approve_, Draco rumbled. _But I suppose if you only look when it does not disrespect. Never touch._

_Never_, Dean promised as he continued down her neck.

_You must behave properly,_ Draco continued._ I am not certain what you are doing now is proper behavior._

_It's not_, Dean replied. _Just sit back and let me drive. This is gonna be awesome. Trust me._

"You do know I'm going to expect more than just this," Nancy murmured, her fingertips massaging his scalp.

"Name it," he whispered, pausing only briefly to speak. He was determined to make it up to her.

"Later," she breathed. "Just don't stop." Her breathing became heavier, until she was panting from his attentions.

_Dean? I thought you required food at this time?_

_Shut. Up._

* * *

Dean sipped on his beer, not quite believing they were here. He glanced through the bar again, not allowing his gaze to linger on any one person. Everywhere he looked he could see ink. Men, women, questionables, they all had some form of body-art, tats and body piercings galore. Nancy had a permanent grin on her face as she sipped at her beer, her attention on everyone but him. Apparently she was allowed to do that but he wasn't.

_We must show respect_, Draco explained. _They honor us by simply being with us_.

Dean rolled his eyes behind his shades. _Whatever_. Dragons would have ass-backwards double standards.

An announcer came on stage. There were to be numerous contests this afternoon, best and most creative piercings as well as tattoos. Dean eyed Nancy suspiciously.

_You don't think?_ He asked silently.

_Well, if you wish to be noticed,_ Draco replied.

Dean sighed heavily. As the cleanest looking couple in the place, they were getting some odd looks. Well, the fact both of them were wearing dark shades indoors might have had something to do with it, too.

He sat through the piercing contests without complaint. Dean checked his watch. They had been here for over two hours.

"Baby?" he hissed, tapping her arm to get her attention. "Nance?"

She spun around in her chair. "Yeah?"

Dean jerked his head toward the door.

Nancy shook her head. "You said all I had to do was name it." Her arms spread. "This is it!"

Stifling a groan, Dean leaned back in his chair. There wasn't enough beer in the whole freaking world for this, but at least he was moving out of the doghouse. Tats were up next. Numerous categories and levels were judged and appraised while Dean wondered why watching a freaking contest was so damned important.

"Now for best inked couple," the announcer's voice boomed over the crowd. Dean watched Nancy perk up. Oh, she wouldn't... Who was he kidding? Hell yes, she would.

One by one, three couples were called up and put on display. On freaking display!

_You're not going to tell me this is respectful? _Dean demanded.

Draco slithered uncomfortably within him. _ No,_ he replied slowly. _But we dare not refuse. Our mate would do nothing to intentionally disrespect us. If she asks, we must._

"Nancy and Dean?"

She turned to beam at him. Holy crap! Dean shook his head at her, hoping there was another way to get off the hook.

Nancy stood and held out a hand to him. Dean clenched his jaw before standing and taking her hand. The crowd applauded politely as they headed for the stage. On stage, Nancy turned to look at him. Dean remained frozen in place, staring at the crowd in horror. Nancy shrugged, turning her back. Her jacket dropped to the floor. As she pulled up her shirt, whistles and catcalls started. Holy crap! Dean snatched her jacket off the floor to hold in front of her chest.

Once her shirt was off she flashed him a bright grin as she pressed the jacket against her chest and there was applause from the crowd. Dean had noticed her donning his offering before they came, but he had thought she was just making a point. Now he saw it was on backwards, so the gold medallion rested just above the ebony dragon head and between the wings, as though it had been designed for it. Well, even if Dean had to say it himself, he did good work.

Nancy nodded for him to strip off his shirt now. Dean sighed, rolling his eyes, as he pulled off his jacket. It joined Nancy's shirt on the floor. He turned his back to the crowd to stand shoulder to shoulder with her. There was a gasp as he took off his shirt and their tats were revealed side-by-side.

Nancy turned slightly to one side making her small tat visible and Dean mimicked the action, their union tats perfect replicas of the larger tats on their backs. Now the crowd cheered loudly. Nancy grinned and looked over at him.

"Ready?" she asked, face shining with anticipation.

"You sure?" he demanded over the crowd noise.

Nancy nodded. One hand holding the jacket to her chest, she rested her other hand on her shades. With a deep breath, Dean copied her. They removed their shades together. Now the crowd really lost it. Flashes of light popped around them as pictures were taken. The roar was deafening, but enough was enough.

Dean scooped up her shirt, helping her into it so no one could get a good view of her chest. Then he gathered up the rest of their stuff. Nancy gave him a kiss, her eyes glowing with a soft light which no one else would notice. Dean grinned back, the crowd forgotten as he held her jacket open for her. She slipped into it, her body leaning into his.

"I think we won," she said, her voice pitched for him alone.

Dean chuckled as he shook his head at her. "Hang on." He handed over his jacket for her to hold while he pulled his shirt back on.

"If we do this again," Dean informed her as he took his jacket, "you're going to be wearing one of those backless tops so you don't flash everyone."

Her gold eyes sparkled. "Jealous?"

He grinned back. "Don't make me burn the place down."

Nancy chuckled at him. "So when do I get to go shopping for new shirts?"

Dean slung an arm around her as he placed his shades back on. "Any time, baby."

The judges approached with a small trophy, for which the crowd went wild again. Dean held it high in the air before leading Nancy off the stage. He had intended to leave, but their mate clearly had other plans. She tugged him over to the bar, where their drinks were on the house.

When a strange hand pulled up her shirt in the back, Dean's hand slammed down on the intruder's arm.

"Got a problem, buddy?" he growled, applying more pressure on the arm.

The guy, not exactly big but definitely more muscle than fat on him, winced. "Hey, man, I was just wondering what kind of ink that tat is. It's freaking amazing."

Dean gripped harder, anger coursing through his system as Draco boiled with rage. "You ask," he grated out as he twisted the man's arm away from Nancy.

"Okay," Nancy said as she set her free drink down. "We can go now."

Dean was just considering how many pieces to break the arm into when Nancy's calming hand landed on his. She pulled him away gently, though Dean was certain he at least left some nasty bruises. He kept his eyes fixed on the bastard until after they passed through the exit to the outside. Dean took a deep breath and attempted to shake off the desire to go back in there and whale on the irreverent dude.

"Dean?" Nancy asked sweetly as they walked to the car. "What was that all about?"

Dean scowled, glaring over his shoulder at the bar. "No one should treat you like that."

Nancy's beaming smile seemed out of place considering his foul mood. "I know." She sauntered ahead of him the rest of the way to the car, her hips sashaying from side to side and afternoon sunlight glinting off the small golden trophy clutched in her hand.

_Our mate is clever, is she not?_ Draco asked with a deep chuckle as he uncoiled from his tension-filled position.

Oh. Dean blinked stupidly at the sight ahead of him. Okay. Now he got it.

* * *

Draco stretched himself, spreading as far within Dean as he could. If felt good to be bonded, not confined to just certain areas for fear of losing control of his vessel. As Dean snuggled with their glorious mate, Draco took the opportunity to explore. He had been growing accustomed to Dean's body, though the boy still threw him a shock or two regularly. A better host he could not have found. It was his little one's mind which fascinated Draco. He had no idea an 'opened' human mind could be capable of such things. Dean's abilities rivaled his own, and could not be contained by the same spells and amulets.

As he drifted through the spaces of Dean's mind, Draco found the nightmares Dean had faced as a hunter. Next he discovered Dean's affinity for questionable entertainment, though he had to admit the violence and screaming women of the 'movies' held a certain appeal. As he moved from entertainment to automobiles, the dragon stumbled across a dark area. Curious, he sailed around it, examining it from all sides. It was a cube of darkness, reflecting nothing, showing nothing. Draco prodded it with his tail.

_Huh?_ Dean's sleepy voice was strong and resonant in this deep. _Whazzat?_

_What is this?_ Draco asked, poking his tail at the cube again. _I do not understand._

_Nuthin',_ Dean muttered, his mind-voice growing slow and weak with sleep. _Don' worry 'bout it._

_But I wish to know._ Draco slithered closer, rubbing along one edge. It was sharp, cutting into him with excruciating pain. With a howl he raced for the safety of foods. Surrounded by sights and smells sure to delight the human palette, Draco attempted to examine himself for wounds.

_What was that?_ Dean's voice boomed all around him. _What happened!_

Draco could find no wound and the pain was gone, as if it had never been there. _ It hurt me!_

_What? _ Dean sounded worried.

_That!_ Draco peered around a memory of steaming pancakes dripping with thick dark syrup at the silent dark cube.

A low growl rippled through Dean, vibrating Draco's whole being. _I told you not to worry about it._

Irritated, Draco rose up, intent on disciplining Dean again for such insolence. Then warmth rushed through him as the cube sank out of sight. Draco tried to fight it, but he began to feel warm and sleepy. Not content in the foods area, he choose instead to stretch out just underneath Dean's skin, where he could feel the weight of his symbol and the soft touch of their mate resting at their side. Yes, this was better. Part of him still wanted to know the reason for the cube, what Dean was hiding from him and how it was possible, however at the moment Dean's contentment was overwhelming. Purring gently, Draco spread as far as he could through Dean's welcoming body until there was no physical sensation they did not share.

Yes, willing bonding was so much better than forced, so sweet, so comfortable. Draco decided Dean could keep his secrets for now, as long as they posed no problems. Perhaps it was a concession, a right, Dean had earned. After all, his little one had saved them twice, or was it three times now? Draco sent a soft wave of warmth rippling across Dean's skin, unable to contain his affection. Dean sighed softly, drifting into an easy sleep.

Draco remained awake and called out softly, _Beloved?_

_Yes, my love_, her sweet voice replied.

Draco purred louder and Dean stirred in his sleep. Draco tried to contain himself and not wake Dean. _You do approve?_ He asked anxiously. _Of our vessels?_

Her laugh thrilled him. _I said I approved during the ceremony. Would I lie?_

_No, no, beloved,_ he replied quickly before she could become offended. _ I just wish to be certain you were not sparing my feelings._

_You have done well_, she assured him. _We may now live well and safe. Who better to protect our kind than a hunter, who knows the tricks of hunters?_

_I am pleased you are pleased_, he responded, his purr increasing.

His Nu-Kua laughed again. _Dean requires some sleep, my love,_ she chided, _so he may again please us in the morning._

When her purr reached him, both through Dean's ears and his senses, Draco felt as sated as he had after feeding off of one of Dean's juicier memories of abandonment. Still stretched as far as he could reach, Draco's purring matched his mate's as they lulled their vessels into a deep sleep.


	18. Chapter 18: In The Dragons' Aerie

_**Chapter 18 – In the Dragons' Aerie**_

Usual greasy spoon stuff. Bobby tried to eat as healthy as he could, but sometimes in this line of work you just couldn't. Couldn't get around raising the cholesterol, not today, so he just paid for the two white clamshell containers with the ham and eggs and toast and went on his way with that and two bottles of orange juice. Good thing was that little greasy spoon down the way was reasonably priced, which was a lighter load on his wallet. Hunting wasn't a lucrative sport, that was for sure. Wasn't a day that went by that he didn't appreciate owning his own business and running the salvage yard.

Bobby's eyebrows went up as he stepped inside the motel room and heard the slight clacking of, what was that, a computer keyboard?

Sam Winchester sat at that small wooden table by the window with a brand new laptop. Sam looked up, nodded as Bobby, then ducked his head down and stared at the screen.

Bobby wasn't surprised. Libraries were fine for research, but Sam was used to having his own laptop with him at all times. There was a Target store down the road from the motel. Sam must have taken a walk over there right after Bobby left to get breakfast.

"Found anything?" Bobby grumbled as he put the containers on the kitchenette counter.

Sam shrugged. "Typed in red eyed demon." Sam huffed. "Got a lot of fan fiction and gothic romance stuff. There's a lot of lore out there about black eyes, yellow eyes. Not much about red. Well, Satan, maybe."

"Kinda doubt Satan woulda been hanging around County General all these years. Rest of the world woulda been paradise if he had."

Sam nodded, then leaned back and carefully pinched the bridge of his nose. "I've never heard of a vengeful spirit being able to turn a person's eyes red like that. As far as demon lore goes, well, there's too much lore out there. I can't pin anything down. Only thing I know is this critter fed off my memories, my fears. It destroyed this spirit that was in the room with me. It appeared to me as Jess, Bobby. And just before you showed up it came in the room looking like Dad, told me that Dean was being a good little boy now."

"Hmmm…except for that part about destroying that spirit, doesn't sound like your run of the mill memory demon." Bobby sighed. He had a feeling about those eyes. Just a feeling. Sometimes that was all it took in this business "Type just 'red eyes' in there, Sam, and see what pops up."

Sam did. Afterwards Bobby didn't remember exactly why that notation about a tattoo contest blog caught his attention. Crazy Eddie's Ultimate Tattoo Forum. It was at the top of the screen, and there were the words 'contest winners red eyes'.

Bobby nodded and Sam clicked on the website.

Nothing unusual about this. No big deal, until Sam scrolled down to the photo of the man and the woman who won the couples competition. The woman was exotic looking enough, with that dragon tattoo sprawled on her back. She was smiling, and those golden eyes of hers were striking enough, but Sam and Bobby forgot to breathe as they looked at the man who stood beside her.

He had ruby red serpent eyes.

He was smiling. He was happy.

It was Dean.

* * *

It was millennia since she had bonded with a human. Few were suitable, and without Draco at her side, what was the point? Nu-Kua smiled slightly as she recalled the anxious tone in Draco's thought voice. _You do approve? Of our vessels?_

Dean and Nancy were more than suitable. The bonding and the reunion was more than Nu-Kua ever could have hoped for. She kept silent, not wanting to awaken Nancy or disturb Dean. Or Draco. He purred, softly, a low, deep rumble that vibrated just underneath Dean's skin.

Only Draco would have the boldness to pick a hunter, and a Winchester at that. She'd heard the rumors about that family of hunters, even cursed their name as she heard about the demons they'd banished down to hell and the others that had been slain by them. She'd heard that the younger brother, Samuel, had been one of Azazel's Chosen. The father, John, had sold himself to Azazel to save the life of his eldest son.

Nu-Kua was now glad that the old man had. This dragon's child, this _Dean_, was a treasure.

She slipped deeper into Nancy's mind, not wishing to disturb the female, but curious all the same. There was a large gaping hole in this one. Nu-Kua knew enough of the life cycle of the average human to know that there should have been more inside, from earlier times, when Nancy was younger, but there wasn't.

Nu-Kua was curious.

There were the usual scenes. Nancy out on her own, nineteen years old, hitch-hiking on the road.

"Sure, I'm goin' that way, sweetness," the man said, grinning. Nu-Kua growled at the memory of his voice. It was unpleasant. "I'll give you a ride."

What happened after that was all a jumble, a blur. Parts were missing.

Nu-Kua curved in the air around what she recognized was one of the human female's hopes: a beautiful house in the countryside. Nancy sat on the rocker on the sun porch cradling a young baby in her arms. Nu-Kua smiled a little to herself when Dean Winchester came out and lovingly kissed Nancy on the cheek.

The dragon went low over the ground, around memories of places Nancy had been. Nu-Kua was attracted by the bright lights of this one place that was surrounded by a night sky and a full moon. She paused for a moment and stared at the sign: Welcome to Las Vegas.

Whatever this place was had no meaning for the dragon, but she sensed that it had been one of the happier times in Nancy's life. Nu-Kua saw Nancy with other human women in this place, covered in feathers, tiny scraps of cloth and shiny jewels as they danced underneath bright lights. The jewels were not real, but that didn't seem to matter.

Nancy was happy, and the only other time she had ever been happier was when she was with Dean.

Nu-Kua stared. There were huge fountains of blue and white water in this place that roared and thundered as it reached high into the sky. She flew even further, saw a pyramid, and a sphinx, obviously a temple of some sort. The last time she had seen something that majestic was in ancient Egypt. A huge golden lion crouched outside another huge impressive structure.

_They worship cats here,_ Nu-Kua thought. Had to be that, even though she did not see any felines on the streets.

Her midnight black scales picked up the colors in the place: golden, red, purple, icy blue. She listened to the sounds as this one volcano erupted in a blaze of water and fire. She growled at this large wooden ship that sat in this lake next to the street where the humans drove their cars. Nu-Kua had encountered a ship such as this once, centuries ago, and the humans on board the vessel attempted to hurt her with harpoons and cannons.

She sunk the ship, and killed everything human that still lived.

Nu-Kua thought this ship was a toy at first, until cannons fired into the night, loud and booming. The great black dragon bared her teeth, prepared to fight back until she realized that they were not firing at her.

It was a show. The humans on the ship were playing a game of some sort, for the amusement of the other humans on the sidewalk. They clapped and cheered.

Nu-Kua pretended that she'd known _that _all along.

She glided even higher into the night sky of Nancy's memories, until she spotted something on the desert floor miles away from this Las Vegas place. Nu-Kua glided to the ground softly, and used her forepaws to brush away some of the sand.

Whatever this was bright silver. It was huge and round, half buried beneath the loose sand.

Nu-Kua cocked her head to one side as she examined the thing. It was smooth, warm to the touch. There was a small hairline crack in the top of the object, almost like a small crack in the top of an egg. Nu-Kua tilted her head to one side.

She could hear sounds. Faint. Human voices, and other sounds she did not recognize.

Her golden eyes flared in the darkness as she sat there staring at the object. She had no problem allowing Nancy her secrets, but this was interesting, to say the least.

Nu-Kua carefully stroked the smooth silver surface, hesitantly at first.

Nothing happened.

Very carefully, almost gently, Nu-Kua scratched at the surface with her claws.

The crack began to widen.

* * *

_Hell yeah,_ Dean thought to himself. _I still got it._

Nancy stirred a little in her sleep as he slowly, quietly lifted her arm from his chest and slid out from underneath. Her fine features creased in a frown, and Dean held his breath, but then she curled right back up on her side.

She and Nu-Kua purred together in perfect harmony.

Dean backed up, stood there staring at her for a long moment, watching the slow rise and fall of her chest, her smooth skin a tanned contrast to those black silk sheets. God, she was beautiful. So bonding with an ancient dragon demon was the way to get a woman like that?

Hell, he should have done_ this_ years ago.

Dean steadied his breathing, deeply, slowly, so that he wouldn't wake Draco. Dean's skin vibrated with the dragon's purr. He wouldn't admit it, but the sound was soothing to him, and as he realized that Dean knew he was so far off the reservation there was absolutely no doubt about it.

And the thing was, Dean _liked_ this life.

He'd been pushing the limits these last couple days. Telling Draco to shut up and growling at the dragon about the cube was a sure way to get smacked down, but it hadn't happened. Dean was sure he'd progressed from being Draco's pet to his _anguigena_, someone useful and valuable. Dean didn't miss the warmth and affection for him in Draco's thought voice now. It was different from before. If Draco had punished him about the cube, especially, Dean would have taken his punishment in silence, but he wasn't going to volunteer any information about the cube, or what was inside it. Didn't affect his relationship with Draco and Nu-Kua, never would. It was nobody's business but his.

And he wasn't going to get rid of it, either.

Nu-Kua had been pleased and impressed with Dean's offering in the bonding ceremony. That was worth something, at least.

And he knew both females would be pleased with _this_.

Dean slipped on his black boxer briefs and padded into the kitchen. Ah, there they were.

When they hit that mall Nancy gave him a strange look when he made a detour into that upscale wine and cheese shop, but apparently she'd forgotten all about it in the excitement of shopping in those other shops. Dean was able to sneak the package in and put it in the refrigerator.

Champagne and fresh strawberries. And two fluted champagne glasses. Perfect.

Dean quietly rummaged through the kitchen cabinets. He grinned a little when he found a black lacquered serving tray. Maybe he made a little too much noise, but in any case, Draco stirred sleepily.

_What…what are you doing?_

_Gonna surprise Nancy and Nu-Kua._

_Oh_. The dragon yawned and stretched underneath Dean's skin. _What is this surprise? I do not like leaving my mate alone for so long. I miss her gentle touch._

_Relax. Only been a moment or so. Didn't wanna wake her,_ Dean thought back softly. _Plenty of time for that later._

Dean's serpent eyes flared even more, just for a moment, the black iris of his eyes expanded even further as Draco pushed his way closer, up against the boundary of Dean's freckled skin. The dragon cocked Dean's head to one side, puzzled, as it eyed the black tray, the champagne bottle, the glasses, and the large, plump strawberries in the glass bowl doubtfully. _I do not understand this. _

_We're being romantic. _

_Oh. _

Dean turned towards the door leading out to the rooftop. The only thing out there was a large hot tub large enough for six people. Draco frowned. _What are you doing?_

Dean smirked. _Second part of the surprise. Trust me on this, will ya?_

Draco huffed in annoyance. But he had in the past, so he did now.

* * *

"Dear God…" Bobby whispered roughly.

Sam leaned back in his chair and he stared at Bobby, wide-eyed. Bobby's own eyes were wide with fear and shock. Sam had enough presence of mind to reach out and pull one of the other chairs out. Bobby leaned over, against the chair, and then somehow guided his body down onto the wooden seat with an audible thump.

"B-Bobby?" That lump in Sam's throat got even thicker. "What…what is it?"

"I've…I've seen that tattoo before….the one Dean's got on…"

"What?" Sam glanced at the laptop screen. That wide smile on Dean's face. Those ruby red serpent eyes. The rest of the idiots, even the one writing the blog thought they were contact lenses.

They weren't.

_My God,_ Sam thought, _that's the happiest I've ever seen Dean look in a long time._ He looked years younger, the lines of care and worry gone from his face.

"I…I was overseas at the time. North Korea. Saw some stuff, Sam. Didn't realize what I was looking at when I saw it at first." Bobby's voice had dropped to a low whisper, as though he was afraid that something might overhear. "At first we thought it was just North Korean soldiers high on drugs. It wasn't. This thing jumped from body to body, and whoever it possessed had this mark on their back. Men, women, children. Didn't matter." Bobby took a long shuddering breath as he leaned forward, his hands on his knees, and looked at the laptop monitor. At Dean, all ruby eyed and so damnably happy.

"The possessed ones were hard to kill. So damn hard to kill. And it laughed while we shot at it. Laughed. Afterwards when I got into the hunting life I did some checking. Me and my guys didn't know what we were dealing with that day, but we all made it out alive. God looks after fools, Sam. Sometimes."

"So this thing somehow made its way to County General," Sam said slowly. He sat back in his chair,

"It's a demon, Sam, but it's not like any demon we've ever hunted. I gotta make some calls. Talk to a few buddies of mine."

"Then we'll know how to handle it, right, Bobby? We can save Dean."

Bobby didn't answer.

* * *

"Stupid bitch!"

Nu-Kua stopped. She growled, low in her throat, until she realized that the sound was coming from the sphere underneath her. Or, to be more accurate, it was coming from the crack.

The great black dragon cocked her head to one side as she listened to the noise. Sounds of flesh against flesh, hard, angry, and hurtful. Screaming.

"Please Daddy, please no, I'm sorry, I didn't mean it ---"

The crack widened, and this wave of sound washed over Nu-Kua. It cut and ripped at her armored hide, flooded the mind of the dragon until she could see, hear or feel nothing else.

Nu-Kua screamed.

And after a moment, so did Nancy.

* * *

Water temperature was fine, perfect. Dean adjusted the nozzles so that the water in the tub would be gentle against Nancy's skin. He was naked in the hot tub. The water felt good against his bare skin. Those black boxer briefs of his were comfortable, but they were suddenly too confining. This high up, they could do whatever they wanted, and no one could see.

Draco rumbled softly to himself. He was impatient, but he was also curious.

It was a beautiful spring day. The temps were already in the seventies, and this high up above the city no one could look down on them, or eavesdrop. It was the perfect aerie, Draco decided. Perhaps they could came back after they disposed of the others, killed all the demons who had persecuted him and his kind in the past. Perhaps they could spend the summer in this place.

Draco's eyes widened as he sensed Nu-Kua's fear and anger. The sound he made was full of rage and fear. Draco roared.

And so did Dean. He stood there, transfixed, staring at a scene that was a memory, a memory that overwhelmed him.

"You're an ungrateful child, you know that, Patti? Your mother and I do so much for you, and this is how you treat us!"

The man in the white priest collar hit the young girl again.

Dean snarled. _Nancy_. It was _Nancy_.

The water all around Dean came to an instant boil.

"You're my daughter, girl. I can touch you any time I want to."

"No, Daddy, please ---"

"I've seen the way you look at those boys at your school. That's not right. I'm the only one allowed to touch you like that, Patti. I think you forgot that. Always me. No one else."

"Daddy--- "

The dragon tat on Dean's back flexed itself, and the wings rose up into the clear morning air, gigantic, smooth as leather.

Draco could only watch as Dean stood there. Dean wanted to take flight. He wanted to kill the one who hurt Nancy, wanted to call lightning down from the clear sky and scour the earth down to the bedrock.

_It's Nancy,_ Draco whispered softly. His child, his _anguigena,_ was in a killing rage. _We cannot leave them like this. _

Dean drew in a ragged breath as white hot steam swirled in the air all around them. His shoulders sagged. His wings drooped, then vanished. "I…I know…"

* * *

"It's…it's all right," Nancy said moments later. "I'm fine."

Dean drew her to him, hugged her even tighter. "Liar," he said softly. She leaned her head against his shoulder, sighed, and stroked his muscular bicep with her fingers.

"Didn't mean to worry everybody," Nancy murmured.

Nu-Kua nestled against Nancy's skin, and was comforted by the solid weight and warmth of Dean and Draco. _I was curious. I will not apologize for that._

"It's okay," Nancy murmured again, and Dean scowled, shook his head slightly.

_It is not okay,_ the female dragon grumbled. _I allowed you to close the sphere back up, but that is not enough. It causes you pain, and I want it gone._

_Beloved,_ Draco said slowly, _what would you have us do?_

Nu-Kua sniffed. She spoke directly to Nancy. _We will exterminate the ones who hurt you._

Nancy gave a frightened gasp. Dean felt her jerk slightly inside the circle of his arms.

"That means…I don't…I…I…don't want to see them again…" Nancy shuddered.

"It's okay. They won't hurt you again. Not ever," Dean said softly. He tenderly kissed the top of Nancy's head.

"Dean. Babe, please…"

"I can't let this pass." Dean shook his head. "I can't. Don't ask me to ignore this. They hurt you. Your own father raped you, beat you every chance he got, and your mother _knew_."

Nancy was quiet. Too quiet.

"The bitch knew," Dean continued in that eerily quiet voice, the threat of violence very real just underneath the surface. "Fine upstanding folks, your parents. You were their only daughter. Patricia Ann Hopkins."

Nancy's eyes closed at the mention of her old name. She leaned into Dean's body even closer.

"When everyone was looking they pretended to love and cherish you. And when no one was around they abused you. And if anybody asked, they told them that you were clumsy. You fell down the stairs. You ran into a wall. _Son of a bitch._"

Draco huffed_. I cannot allow this._

"What?" There was an edge to Dean's voice, a sharp one that was hard to miss.

_There is a war coming. The Others are gathering against us. We need to conserve our resources._

_You scaly son of a bitch,_ Dean thought, and he didn't bother to hide his anger. _They need to pay for what they did to Nancy. _

Draco growled.

_Punish me then,_ Dean growled back_. I don't give a damn._

_Beloved,_ Nu-Kua purred softly, _this is a matter that we must attend to. Nancy's pain is my pain now. Do you wish to cause me pain?_

_What? No. No! Of course not. We shall do as you wish, my mate._

_Then it's settled then,_ the female dragon purred. _We shall strike Nancy's parents down, give her the closure that she and I need. I hardly think that mere humans can prevail against our combined might. It will be, as they say, like shooting monkeys in a barrel._

Dean smirked. "I think you mean_ fish_ in a barrel."

Nu-Kua smirked back. She was growing _very_ fond of her mate's vessel. _That too._

* * *

Reverend Thomas Hopkins noticed the young man in the leather jacket as he sat in the front pew. He wasn't from around here, that was for sure. Kid was a boy playing at being a man. Hopkins noticed the light stubble on the boy's jaw, noticed the gunslinger's strut when he walked into the place. _Here comes trouble_, Hopkins thought.

He didn't know how right he was.

Hopkins got up and walked over to the young man. Maybe by asking some questions and acting friendly he could get the bastard to leave. Hopkins really didn't feel like administering to his flock today, even to a stray he'd never seen before, so he pasted on a big fake smile that didn't reach his eyes. "Good morning, Something I can help you with?"

"Today's your lucky day, padre," the young man smirked. He removed those dark sunglasses of his, and Hopkins recoiled at the sight of those ruby red serpent eyes. "Payback's a bitch in heat, and so am I."

_Dear God. Those were the eyes of Satan. Satan,_ Hopkins thought, _here in this house of worship._

Hopkins stood there frozen. He didn't move, he couldn't not even when the man's right hand shot out, fisted his white collar.

The man snarled as he cocked his head to one side. It was as if he was scenting the air, could see all the things Hopkins had ever done just by being this close to him.

"Not the first time you forced yourself on some young, scared kid, huh? Well, that's all over now." He jerked Hopkins forward until they were nose to nose. "Patti says 'Hi.'"


	19. Chapter 19: Settling a Score – Old Testa

Chapter 19: **Settling a Score – Old Testament Style**

"Y-you can't be here," the honorable reverend Hopkins stuttered. "This is a house of the lord!"

The young man snarled at him. Literally. "Dude, this is as much a house of god as you are an angel." The man with the devil eyes lifted him off his feet. "And I don't believe in angels."

Hopkins felt himself thrown backwards, into the altar.

"Lord, protect your faithful followers from this agent of the devil," he said as he attempted to stand.

His attacker snorted disdainfully. One booted boot pressed down in the middle of his chest, holding him in place. "Now, let's talk about Patti, you son of a bitch."

* * *

Doreen Hopkins studied her face in the mirror. She needed more make-up to cover the deep purpling bruise around her left eye. Wondering if her husband was in a good enough mood to stop at the store for her, Doreen reached for the phone. It rang as she closed her hand on the receiver, startling her.

"Hello?" she asked, hoping it was not one of the parishioners needing her husband's services or advice. He had not been a good mood this week, as evidenced by her eye.

"Doreen," Thomas snapped at her. She recoiled automatically at his tone. "Come to the church. Now."

"Thomas?" she asked as sweetly as she could manage. "What is it?"

"Now!" The line went dead in her hand.

With a sigh, Doreen slid her trusty sunglasses on before leaving the house. Traffic was light on the way to the church. She wondered what she had done wrong now, that she had to drive out to be punished. Parking in the church parking lot, Doreen walked slowly towards the church. When she was nearly there, she noticed a large black car parked right out front. Lifting her head, Doreen stared at the car. A young woman sat inside staring anxiously out the passenger window.

One of the duties as the wife of a reverend was to welcome new members of the flock. She was torn between her duty and the tone of Thomas' voice. Biting her lip, Doreen chose duty. If Thomas were especially angry, being five minutes later would not make a difference.

"Excuse me," Doreen called out as she approached the car. "Hello! Are you new here?"

The woman in the passenger seat recoiled from her, arms flying up defensively.

"Oh, dear," Doreen tried to sound soothing, "I didn't mean to startle you."

The woman scooted back across the seat, until her back pressed into the driver's door. She whimpered, her legs drawing up to press against her chest. "Go away," she whispered, face hidden by her knees.

Doreen smiled her best smile. "I can assure you, dear, I'm perfectly harmless."

"Harmless?" the young woman had an imperial tone, despite the fact she was cowering in fear. Her entire body stiffened as Doreen watched, then the legs came down and the arms fell to her sides. She wore dark sunglasses, like Doreen. The shirt the young woman wore was sleeveless, no doubt to show off the exotic bronze dragon on her upper arm. What did they call those? Tramp stamp? Yes, the description probably fit her, too.

"You dare call yourself harmless?" the young woman demanded, opening the driver's door.

Doreen straightened up as the woman walked up to her. There was something familiar about her, as if they had met once before. "Do I know you?"

The young woman stood in front of her with a haughty attitude. She tossed her head, dark curly hair flying out of her face. Doreen studied her face, what she could see of it around those stylish thin sunglasses. There was something very familiar. Doreen knew her, she was certain of it now.

"Certainly you know me," the woman said with a snarl. "At least, you used to."

The set of her head was different and her hair was long, very loose and unbecoming of any young lady. If Doreen imagined her without the tattoo and with her hair drawn back properly...

"My god..." she whispered, stepping closer and one hand covering her mouth. "Patti? Have you come home?" Tears stung her eyes as she looked fearfully over her shoulder at the church. "You have to leave, your father is inside."

An unfamiliar smile spread across Patti's face and Doreen couldn't imagine why she didn't recognize her own daughter earlier.

"I know," Patti said. "My mate is inside, meeting dear old dad."

"Mate?" Doreen's heart quickened in her chest. "What do you mean by mate?"

A strange golden glow came from behind Patti's sunglasses and Doreen's mouth went dry.

"Woman," Patti said slowly, anger clear in each syllable, "I have had two broods of chicks, and never would I allow my mate to mistreat our offspring. Of course, I never would choose such a worthless specimen as my mate." She walked closer and Doreen backed away, Patti's strange attitude frightening. "Offspring are precious and must be protected. Males must be regulated, their aggressions kept in check."

Doreen's heel hit something solid, the front steps of the church. She stumbled up backwards, unable to tear her eyes from the terrifying sight of her daughter. Patti had come home – for revenge.

* * *

Dean leaned down on the bastard's chest, keeping him in place, while he slid his cell phone back in his pocket.

"Very nice," he said. "But you know she's as guilty as you are, right?"

"Guilty?" Hopkins asked, his eyes still wide with fear. "Of what?"

Dean shifted his weight forward, applying more pressure, making Hopkins gasp for air. He smiled at the son-of-a-bitch's discomfort, knowing this was the easiest it was going to be. From here on out, Hopkins was basically a dead man walking. Well, not _walking_.

"Don't tell me you forgot about Patti? Your daughter?" Dean growled.

Hopkins scowled at him. "What do you care about that whore?"

His hand shot out to grab Hopkins by the neck, though Dean wasn't sure if the reaction was his or Draco's, and he didn't care.

"You-you don't want to do this," a woman's voice pleaded from behind them. Dean held Hopkins in place while he looked over his shoulder. Nancy herded an older woman into the church. "Please, it isn't too late. Just leave, like you did before."

Dean grimaced at the sight. Nance was supposed to be waiting in the car, so she wouldn't have to see any of this.

"Baby, what are you doing?" Dean demanded, hauling the soon-to-be-former-Hopkins to his feet by the throat.

She shoved the older woman down the center aisle of the church. "This woman accosted us in the car," she snapped in a haughty tone.

Dean blinked at her in surprise. It was Nu-Kua, not Nancy. She sauntered up to him, placing a searing kiss on his cheek. "You may still use Baby," she whispered to him.

Dean hadn't realized how frightened he had been of calling Nu-Kua Baby instead of Nancy, the disrespect it might have shown, until she gave him permission and his racing heart began to settle.

_You do like living dangerously, little one_, Draco said with a chuckle. _Wait until you've been mated for a few centuries, it does not become any easier._

_Great_, Dean sniped, but he shot their mate a smile of thanks. Her reply of a blinding smile coupled with Draco's soothing purr alleviated his concerns, allowing Dean to concentrate on what needed to be done now. From his jacket pocket he pulled out a fresh roll of duct tape.

* * *

"Well?" Sam demanded, glaring at the longest lasting, most trusted family friend they still had.

Bobby shook his head as he lowered the bulky cell phone from his ear. Honestly, Sam was amazed the damn thing still worked. "You're not gonna like it, Sam."

"Believe me, Bobby, I already hate it. Just tell me already," Sam demanded.

Bobby sighed as he attempted to stuff his cell into a pocket, like it was going to fit. "Dragons."

Sam waited for the punchline, but Bobby was just watching and waiting. "Dragons," Sam repeated. "You can't be serious."

Bobby sighed, shaking his head. "Wish I weren't, Sam. But Dean, and whoever that girl is, are both possessed by dragons."

"Dragons." Sam just couldn't wrap his head around this one. "They're just myths," he insisted. "They can't be real."

Bobby glared at him. "I think I heard the same thing about werewolves and demons. Huh. Imagine that."

Sam glared back. "You know what I meant."

"Yeah, I know," Bobby snapped at him. "And if you'd pull your head outta your ass, maybe you can do some research on dragons. I hear they like their shiny jewels. Any jewel store heists lately?"

Sam nodded stiffly as he pulled his laptop towards him. Bobby was right about one thing, Sam really didn't want to hear this one.

* * *

Dean stood back to admire his handiwork. Reverend Hopkins and wife both wore silver taped bindings around their wrists and ankles as well as a nice thick strip over their mouths. He might have also taped them to the pew, but it seemed overkill. It wasn't like they could get away. To prove his point, Dean tossed the remaining roll of duct tape in the air where he made it hover for a moment before slamming down beside their captives on the pew.

The parents of Patti Hopkins, if the term 'parents' could really be applied to them, eyes went wide. The so-called reverend tried talking through the tape.

Dean turned to focus on their mate. "How's Nancy?" he asked in a gentle voice.

"Still cowering in fear," Nu-Kua replied. She removed the dark shades, and looking in those gold eyes always sent a thrill up Dean's spine. "Perhaps you should speak with her."

Dean nodded. He held an arm open and Nu-Kua stepped in to it, pressing Nancy's body against his side, her head on his chest. Dean held her as tightly as he dared, not wanting Nancy to feel trapped.

"Baby," he whispered in her ear, "they can't hurt you. We won't let them. **I** won't let them." Dean pressed a kiss to her cheek as he rubbed a hand down her back. "Come on, Nance. It's all right. You can still wait in the car if you want."

Those gold eyes blinked at him a few times. Then her head shook, dark curls bouncing gently around her face. "I'll stay," she whispered and Dean felt a rush of relief it was really Nancy this time. "With you."

Pleased, Dean slipped his hand from her back to grasp hers. Nance squeezed back.

"I want to show them," Dean told her. "They need to know what it was like for you."

Her gold eyes filled with tears as she stared at him. Biting her lower lip, Nancy nodded slowly.

"Sure you don't want to wait in the car?" he asked again. Dean dropped his voice to a whisper. "What's Nu-Kua think?"

Nancy swallowed hard as a tear trickled down her cheek. "We're staying."

"Okay, baby." Dean offered her a smile in hopes of alleviating some of her fears.

_Come, anguigena_, Draco hissed. Dean could feel the mighty dragon tensing beneath his skin, preparing for this. _It is time_.

* * *

Doreen watched her daughter, if it was indeed Patti with those gold eyes, and the strange man with the red eyes. She wanted to ask Thomas if it was some type of contact lens or if they were something else, perhaps an evil from the old testament. At the same time, Doreen didn't want to know the answer. If they were responsible for leading Patti into a life of evil...

No. She left home. Ran away. Whatever Patti had become was her own fault.

The strange man stood facing Patti, resting his forehead against hers. Doreen struggled with her bonds while they were distracted, but she knew it was useless. Never in her life had she been able to resist someone else's will, why would it happen now? Her hands rested limply in her lap. Thomas gave her a whithering glare as he pulled against the tape, as if this were her fault.

A silver ball appeared in the air next to the young couple. The young man stroked Patti's cheek with a tenderness Doreen had never known, what she had always thought existed only in Hollywood movies. He moved protectively in front of her, apparently not trusting them near their own daughter even while bound. Then again, if he honestly knew anything of her childhood, Doreen could not blame him.

She watched with mounting trepidation as the silver ball floated in front of her and her husband. The young man's face hardened, one arm reaching back to place a hand on Patti, as the silver ball cracked. The inside was black, an evil roiling mess of darkness. It spilled out the opening, all over Doreen and Thomas.

"This is how little girls show Daddy their love," Thomas whispered in her ear. There were frilly pink curtains over the windows and the walls were painted a pale lilac. It was Patti's childhood room. "Be good and Daddy will buy you that bike you want."

The scene shifted to their living room, Patti arriving home after school.

"You nasty whore!" Thomas' hand snapped her head to the side. "How dare you look at those boys!"

Pain lanced through her face, until another blow landed on her back. Then another, and another. She curled up into a ball, hoping to avoid more punishment.

Again the scene shifted, showing Patti's room again. Doreen watched herself coming in through the bedroom door, closing it quietly behind her after glancing furtively down the hall. She felt Patti's apprehension and confusion.

"Honey, there's something we need to talk about."

Doreen might have gasped in her horror and eternal shame, but her mouth was taped closed and the young man had done a thorough job of it.

She watched her own face flicker with indecision before steeling into determination.

"When your father comes to you, here." She patted the bed. "You can't just lie there. He doesn't like that."

Doreen had repressed this memory, instructing her daughter on how to please her husband, the child's own father, sexually. How it had appeared to Patti had never occurred to her, not then and not until this moment. She had simply been attempting to spare Patti, and herself, from more beatings.

A deep growl rumbled through the church, vibrating her to the bone. It was the young man with the red eyes, and he looked... Really, the words 'mad' and 'angry' seemed too tame for the emotions raging across his face. The young man stood over her, his red eyes stabbing into her very soul.

Why would he be so angry with her? Thomas was the one who did it, who did all those things to Patti.

"You knew." His voice was low and deceptively soft. "Not only didn't you stop it, but you helped."

Her feet felt hot. Doreen looked down. Flames licked her shoes, climbing up her long skirt. She tried to beat at the fire with her bound hands. It burned her skin searing quickly, too quickly, into her legs and hands. Now her arms were on fire as well. Doreen tried to scream, to beg for mercy, but there was no mercy in those demon-red eyes. When she turned to Patti, her only child, she found no mercy there either. Those gold eyes, so different from the warm soft brown of the infant she brought home from the hospital, were cold and judgmental. Doreen wanted to remind them not to judge others, lest they themselves wished to be judged. A number of biblical verses sprang to her mind, but her mouth was still taped closed. She had never had a defense, always at the will and mercy of others all her life. Why should her death be any different?

* * *

Dean watched as the fire spread from his boots, skittering across the floor of the church to climb up the walls. Stained glass depicting St. George slaying the dragon was surrounded by yellow flame. Dean heard a low roar from deep within and the fire heated until it was hot enough to cause the colored glass to melt and flow down in thin rivulets.

He waited until the walls were solid flame and some of the pews in the back had caught before turning to wrap an arm around Nancy. Besides them, her father was the only living thing here. Dean gave the bastard a wink as he placed his shades over his eyes. As he escorted Nancy through the blaze, Dean fed the fire his anger and scorn, amping up the heat but not encouraging it to burn faster. He wanted that man, if the term could be used to described such a nasty bastard, to suffer.

Outside, Dean opened the passenger door of the Impala for Nancy. He helped her inside and closed it for her. Dean walked deliberately around to the driver's side and slid in behind the wheel. He started it up and pulled away before the first emergency vehicles could arrive. Dean drove a little ways before he heard the sound of sirens. Not wanting even the possibility of rescue for that scumbag, he had the fire spread to all the other buildings of the church, including the school behind it. The blaze curled into the sky against a background of deep black smoke. Firefighters wouldn't be able to go within twenty feet of the fire for hours.

Satisfied, Dean looked over at Nancy. "Nancy?"

She jumped in her seat at the sound of his voice, her attention flashing from the sight out the window to him. Then a wary smile crossed her face. "So. It wasn't supposed to be like that, right?"

Dean shook his head, holding his right arm up. She slid across the seat to lean against him, where he could hold her as he drove. The car shifted into drive, seemingly by itself.

"How do you do that?" Nancy asked, one hand resting in the center of his chest.

"Do what?" Dean asked innocently, assuming she meant the moving things with his mind stuff.

"Make me feel safe," she replied. Higher praise he had never heard. In his life.

_Nor mine_, Draco put in. _ But little one, we still have much work to do._


	20. Chapter 20: Dreams of Dragons' Fire

**Chapter 20 – ****Dreams of Dragons' Fire **

Dean sang sometimes. He sang more when they were kids, but he still belted a few songs out, in the shower, or while he was driving. Dean had a rich, deep voice, but when he sang to annoy Sam Dean deliberately cracked his voice, hit all the wrong notes, and he smirked as he did it. Hearing Dean sing just for the pure joy of it was rare, but it happened sometimes.

Sam dreamed, and Dean sang. He was happy. Sam could hear it in his voice.

"Something's wrong, shut the light…"

Sam was ten years old in this one. Summer in Indiana, of all places. Right now Sammy was still Sammy, before the arguments and fights, before the big blow-up years later. One o'clock on a Saturday afternoon, and John and Sam sat on the front porch of their rented house and took in the afternoon breeze. The air conditioner stopped working days ago. Dean wasn't around in this dream. Sam could hear him, singing softly, full of passion and strength.

"Dad," Sam said slowly, "Are dragons real?"

"Heavy thoughts tonight..."

John blinked. "Dragons? No. What brought that on?"

"And they aren't of Snow White."

Sammy shrugged. "Nothing. I was just curious." He shrugged. "Some of the stuff we study at school just got me to wondering…"

John chuckled. "If I ever see one Sammy, I'll let you know." John reached over and ruffled Sam's hair.

"Dreams of war, dreams of liars…"

_I've seen one, Dad_, Sam thought dully as everything faded out around him.

"Dreams of dragons' fire…"

Something massive and bronze swept upward through the darkening air past Sam. It ruffled his hair and his clothing.

_God help me, I have._

"And of things that will bite, yeah…"

The sky above shifted, from dark to mercilessly clear, bright and blue. There was no ground below, only cloud cover that stretched from horizon to horizon. The rock underneath Sam's feet was brown and dense, a flat plateau about fifty feet in diameter. A rock spire at the other end thrust itself out into open sky.

Dean stood there with his back to Sam.

Dean was bare-chested, all strong shoulders and that well muscled broad back. Dean's back was clear, unmarked. There was no dragon tat on his back.

That was because the dragon itself filled the air all around him.

It was massive. That long neck curved gracefully like a war-horse's. The wings were slightly folded up and back, and they still eclipsed the sun in the sky. The tail was barbed at the end, with something that looked like tremendous double-edged scythe. Bronze scales gleamed warmly in the sunlight, but Sam could see straight through the beast, had a clear view of his brother as Dean stood there quietly on the rock.

"Exit light…"

A dragon? That sorry, dark sonofabitch back in the hospital was a damn _dragon_?

"Enter night," Dean sang softly.

Why would a dragon waste time being confined in a hospital?

"Take my hand…"

Unless…unless it was weak.

"Off to never never land,"

Unless it was bound there, because it couldn't find a suitable host. Like…

"Hush little baby, don't say a word  
And never mind that noise you heard  
Its just the beast under your bed,  
In your closet, in your head…"

Dean took a deep breath. The muscles of his back untensed slightly. "Thought I told you not to follow me, bro'."

"Dean, whatever's happened to you, Bobby and I can help you ---"

"Help? I don't need your help, dude." Dean chuckled as he turned around halfway to look at Sam. Dean's eyes were ruby red, serpents' eyes that were never meant to be in a human's face. The corners of his mouth twitched upwards in a smile that was full of amusement, scorn, and pity.

Dean smirked, and so did the dragon.

The air around them filled with wingbeats, as twenty or so smaller dragons curved and soared through the air around them. The largest one was about the size of the Impala. They circled Dean joyously, and he laughed with delight as the smallest one, a greenish purple chick about the size of a housecat, stopped and hovered clumsily in the air right at Dean's eye level, its leather wings flapping frantically.

"I have a family now. A family that won't leave me. Ever. Not like Dad did. Not like you did."

Sam felt it then. A massive displacement of air, directly behind and above him. The sky and sun were blotted out by this huge shadow, and Sam knew what he would see when he turned around.

It was the golden-eyed woman in the tat contest photo. Her long curly hair fell around her shoulders. She wore a sleeveless t shirt and jeans, and she was likewise surrounded by an awesome black dragon with golden eyes.

Dean's mate.

Dean's eyes softened when he looked at her. "I made the deal for you and Bobby, but this…_this_ turned out to be the best thing that ever happened to me. In life."

"You…you can't mean that…"

"I can't? Why not, Sam? I go anywhere, do whatever I want."

"_I hear they like their jewels," Bobby snapped in Sam's memory._

"Dean you're still human."

"You think so, Sam? You really think so, huh?"

The luminous red eyes of the dragon blinked at Sam, obviously not liking what it saw and heard.

There was no warning, no flicker in Dean's eyes, no change in his expression. The bronze dragon lunged downwards at Sam, and he didn't have time to even scream as it swallowed him up. Everything went dark as those razor sharp teeth sliced into his flesh.

Sam screamed.

* * *

"Jesus! Sam! Sam!"

Sam took a great whooping lungful of air. All he could see for a moment was the dragon's maw, and Dean standing there, staring at him with a curiously blank look on his face. Then all that cleared away and there was only the motel room he'd fallen asleep in, the motel room with that new laptop and one very nervous Robert Steven Singer.

"Damn it! Sam!

"I'm…I'm okay, Bobby."

"Sure in the hell didn't sound like it. What the hell was that all about?"

"Bad…bad dream."

"Wanna talk about it?"

"No."

"Figures. You were on the laptop when I left. What'd you find out?"

Sam fell back in the chair, scrubbed his hands over his face. "Irvine's Finest. High-end jewelry store half a state away. A couple of nights ago. Before the…the tat contest. The security guard finally broke down. Claimed it was a man with red serpent eyes. No security tape available. And the contest winners' names?" Sam gave a short bark of humorless laughter. "Jimmy and Janis Page."

"Yeah. Sounds like Dean alright." Bobby shook his head ruefully.

"You find anything from your contacts?"

Bobby shrugged. "Buddy of mine is gonna email us back. Might have a lead on a Korean monk who actually fought that red-eyed critter off. Might be able to get ahold of the ritual that did the deed." Bobby didn't look too thrilled about it.

"But, hey, Bobby, that's good news---"

"Sam, don't get your hopes up. This ritual," Bobby shook his head, "pretty dark stuff from what I heard. It repelled the dragon, but the host died."

Sam deflated. Bobby put a hand on Sam's shoulder. It was a light touch, and Sam found himself leaning into it.

"I got some other contacts working on things," Bobby said calmly. "If you don't mind, gave 'em your phone number and email address too."

"So what now?"

Bobby shrugged. "We eat."

"What?"

"It's lunch time now, boy. Can't do anything on an empty stomach. Then we plan our next move."

All Sam could do was nod.

* * *

Dean padded across the kitchen in his black boxer briefs. He slipped the champagne bottle into the ice bucket. He picked up one of the strawberries and bit down into it.

Ah, God, that was _good_. Dean closed his eyes as he and Draco savored the taste. He was kind of glad he hadn't vaporized the place after all, when Nancy's bad memories broke free and nearly overwhelmed him.

"They will come for us now," Draco murmured softly.

"I know."

"What you contained inside that cube of yours…it was similar to the female's?"

Dean sighed. "No. I wasn't abused. Never was. Those are memories of good times. My mom, my dad, and my brother. I kept 'em. Since they were good memories I didn't think you'd have any use for them. Wasn't gonna get rid of them, either."

"I see. I will not apologize for being curious."

"Wasn't expecting any apology from you." Dean waited. "But I…I acted like an ass last time we were here. 'm sorry about that."

"I took no offense at that. You care for her, thus you care for Nu-Kua. I am satisfied. For now. But no more secrets between us."

Dean nodded. "Do you uh, need to feed on my memories again?"

Draco laughed softly. "No, child. That was necessary only when I was apart from my mate. Now that I am bonded with her, and with you, I no longer require that. Vanquishing our enemies will be more than enough to sustain me."

"Do you trust me?"

"Yes."

"I was thinking about the upcoming hunt. I might…I might need my old eye color back sometimes. When it's necessary. Sometimes it pays to be tricky."

"Agreed." Draco said smoothly.

"I wouldn't ask but ---"

"Agreed."

Dean blinked. "Oh. Uh. Okay, then." He frowned, expecting an argument where there was none.

Draco chuckled to himself. His human was surely a prize, someone to be treasured always.

* * *

Five minutes later Dean slipped out of his black boxer shorts and into the hot tub. The water was comfortable, and the water jets felt good against his bare skin. Nancy ignored the tray of plump strawberries and the chilled champagne, preferring instead to snuggle up against Dean.

"You have offended me, _anguigena_." Nu-Kua whispered softly. Dean froze as Nancy slowly kissed her way up the taut long line of his neck.

Nu-Kua was driving. She placed a soft, deep kiss against the pulse point underneath Dean's jaw.

"Uh, beloved?" Draco sounded nervous.

"You think you're going to do this alone," Nu Kua purred into Dean's skin. "As if I am some delicate flower to be protected from harm. Is that not so?"

Dean nodded. "Well, that was the plan. I —"

"Sshh," Nancy raised up and put one slim finger to Dean's lips. He immediately became still.

"We will do this together. I am insulted that you think we are weak, and need to be protected. But," and her smile was warm and genuine, "it is nice that you care so deeply about us."

"What about…what about Nancy?"

"I'll be fine, Babe." The timbre of her voice changed. Nancy was back in control of her body once again. "Just fine. As long as you're around."

"There are two in particular who have extensive knowledge of our kind," Draco rumbled. "They were instrumental in our downfall. Alûu and Tauros. If we eliminate them, the rest will be easy. There are twelve demons in all. With the dynii that made thirteen."

"So…" Dean drawled slowly, "whatever they have for you…it doesn't work on me, is that it?"

"It appears so."

"All right. Who's first? I … _we_ got work to do."

* * *

They were walking corpses, and they didn't even know it.

There were five of them in all, two women and three men. The men were huge, broad shouldered, like pro wrestlers on steroids. There was a subtle black glint in their eyes that the average person just would not have noticed. They all wore expensive clothing. They blended in well with the humans in New York. They were high society, rich, and they had no need to mingle with the general population.

The two women were tall, one about fifteen years older than the other. Dean could see the family connection; he could smell it. Sisters. He had no way of knowing whether they were willing hosts or not.

Either way it didn't matter.

They crowded onto the elevator in the lobby just as Dean and Nancy ran up. The man standing closest to the button panel rolled his eyes but made no move to hold the doors open. Dean stuck his hand in over the sensor and the doors opened back up.

Dean wore an expensive looking black business suit, a white shirt and a red and black striped tie. Nancy wore a classic pearl grey pantsuit and low heels. She wore her hair pulled back from her face.

The women pointedly ignored them and the men settled their gaze on the newcomers like a gunsight. They looked at Dean and Nancy's eyes, scanning to see any trace of ruby red or gold, any sign of the dragon. There was none. But that didn't matter either.

Alûu and Tauros. Not in the women. Their flesh is not large enough to contain them, Draco murmured. They are inside the males. Deep inside.

Doesn't matter, Dean drawled silently. We'll take 'em all out. Everybody ready?

Of course, Nu-Kua thought grandly.

Nancy nodded.

"Evenin', ladies," Dean smiled wolfishly. His eyes filled with ruby red color. His irises lengthened to black slits. Nancy's smile was just as feral as her eyes turned bright and golden.

"Wurm," one of the men growled. He stepped forward, so fast he was a blur to the untrained eye, but to Dean he was moving in slow motion. Dean tilted his head to one side to avoid the blow. The man's fist struck the elevator side wall, right between Nancy and Dean.

His fist went in, all the way up to his wrist. He was stuck.

Dean smirked. Nancy winked at him.

The doors slid shut and the killing began.

* * *

"Jesus Christ!" Matt yelped. He dropped his toolbox and held onto the nearest wall. Two weeks on the job working maintenance in this high-rise. Nice, quiet, well-maintained. After the crap job he had before, he could get used to this.

Now he wasn't so sure. "What the hell was that?" He braced himself against the wall as the whole building shook, a smaller tremor this time.

Reeves went as pale as a ghost, which was a pretty neat trick, considering that his skin was the smooth deep chocolate of a Hershey bar. The black man grimaced. "Earthquake?"

"In New York City?"

"First time for everything," Reeves said shakily.

"We take the elevator down?"

Reeves shook his head. "Stairwell."

They gathered up their tools and were on their way to the fifteenth floor stairwell entrance, when Reeves happened to glance down the hallway at the elevator doors.

There was a bulge in the doors. A _huge_ bulge.

"What the hell is that?" Matt whispered. He stood there frozen in place as Reeves called building security on his cell.

* * *

Two hours later NYFD managed to pry the elevator doors open.

It was a mess inside.

The elevator smelled of sulfur, thick streaks of it on the ceiling. The floor was slick with it. Pale grey smoke hung in the air. Several of the cops and the firefighters turned away gagging.

All of the bodies were intact. That wasn't the worst of it. The heads of all the victims had been twisted around so that their chins touched their backs.

Detective Alan Crawford stepped back from the bodies. "The devil's hands have been busy." He shook his head as he looked around. "Man, the Post is gonna have a field day with this one."

There was something on their foreheads, a brand, gorgeous yet awful in its perfection.

The victims had been branded post mortem, and the brand perfectly matched the enormous sigil of a dragon, jaws agape, wings spread majestically, that had somehow been etched onto the back wall.


	21. Chapter 21: Bite The Big Apple

Chapter 21: **Bite the Big Apple**

Sam hated sleeping. He would rather down a couple of pots of coffee and take some of those caffeine pills to stay awake and on the road. Every mile was a mile closer to Dean, he told himself. Bobby, however, had other ideas. He was slow and cautious, and driving Sam nuts.

So here they were, in another nameless, faceless motel. Bobby was stretched out on top of the comforter of the far bed, fully clothed with his hat pulled down over his face. A glance at the clock told Sam the sun would be coming up in a few hours. He pulled on a sweatshirt to battle the chill in the air before moving over to turn on his laptop.

It whirred to life, screen glowing brightly in the otherwise dark room. Dean would find a way of bitching him out for not turning on a light, or not sleeping, while pretending to be asleep. Bobby didn't even stir. Missing his big brother acting like an overbearing jerk more than ever, Sam connected to the internet using his satellite uplink. He opened a search window for some fresh dragon research.

The very first search hit was a New York Post headline, "Dragon Bites Big Apple." Stomach twisting into knots and with a deep sense of dread, Sam clicked on the link to the Post article. Five people, three men and two women, had been murdered in an upscale New York apartment building elevator. Two of them had their necks broken and the heads turned around backwards. The other three had been twisted into pretzel shapes, every bone broken in their bodies. A large dragon symbol had been somehow etched in the back of the elevator.

"Oh, God, Dean," he breathed out.

Bobby stirred in the far bed, but Sam couldn't spare any attention for the older hunter, his gaze still riveted to the screen. Soon a heavy hand clutched his shoulder and Sam jerked at the touch, but it remained.

"So it's a dragon with a mission." Bobby leaned over Sam's shoulder, pointing out there were five bodies. "I'm guessing this one has a grudge and Dean's helping him out." The hand on his shoulder squeezed tightly. "Got an idea, Sam. Maybe we don't need to find Dean, maybe we just need to find ourselves another dragon."

Sam looked over his shoulder in disbelief at the small smile on Bobby's face. Old dude was losing it.

* * *

Dean held the door open for Nancy at their hotel. This place cost more per night than Dean could scam in a year, but it wasn't like they couldn't afford it. Well, Nu-Kua could at any rate, with all the jewels she had now.

"I want to wear the necklace next time," Nancy told him with a grin as they sauntered through the ritzy lobby.

"Might tip 'em off," Dean argued, nodding at the dude who was supposed to be helpful. They called him a con-something-or-other. Whatever. Dean had asked him a favor before they left and wondered if the dude had managed it. Helpful Dude smiled and threw Dean a small salute, which Dean took as a sign of success.

"What was that all about?" Nancy demanded as they entered the elevator.

Dean might never think of an elevator the same again. He pulled her against him as the doors closed. "You'll see," he whispered in her ear as Nancy giggled.

"Dean!" She squirmed in his arms until he had to release her. "What are you up to?" Nancy would appear more imposing without the excited, child-like grin.

Dean grinned back. If the dude downstairs screwed this up, hotel management would need to put out a want ad. Nobody was going to get away with disappointing Nancy, ever again. Not if he could help it.

The elevator doors opened and Nancy dashed out. She held back from opening the door to their room, looking to him. Dean reached out with his mind to scan their room, which took up about half this entire floor. It was empty and their mate's surprise was ready.

His smile broadening, Dean waved his hand at the door and it opened for her. Nance gave him a sultry look as she walked past and his heart-rate picked up. Damn. Was it like this for all married people?

_Only for the fortunate_, Draco informed him. _I have ridden with many who were not._

_Sucks to be them_, Dean replied as they rounded the entryway into the main room, where the surprise was. Nancy squealed with delight when she saw the rack of expensive clothing.

"What's this?" she demanded, making a bee-line for the rack. "Dean!"

He chuckled at her enthusiasm. "All for you, baby," Dean assured her, falling onto the expansive sofa to watch.

Nancy's face lit up as she pawed through the dresses and suits. She found a simple black dress and her eyes sparkled. "Close your eyes," she ordered.

Dean grinned as he rested one hand over his eyes. He listened to the rustle of fabric, knowing she was stripping down only a few feet away to try it on. Dean tried peeking through his fingers, but they slammed closed.

_C'mon, Draco_, Dean argued. _It's nothin' I haven't seen before._

_We have our orders, Dean_, Draco told him. _Besides, you've seen it before._

Dean groaned, not being allowed to look just killing him. "When can I see?" he whined.

Nancy's light, happy laugh reached his ears. "Just a minute. I need to grab something from the bedroom. Keep your eyes closed!"

Dean tracked her movements with his mind.

_Do you worry about our mate?_ Draco asked.

_Constantly_, Dean replied, his hand still clamped over his eyes. _I'd feel better if she had stayed here._

_We are a good team,_ Draco argued. _We are stronger together._

_Yeah_, Dean had to admit. _ It's pretty sweet watching her in action_.

"Babe?" Nancy's sultry voice fell on his ears like sweet music. "You can open your eyes now."

Draco released his hand, allowing Dean to lower it. Nancy stood before him in a sleek black dress, low v-cut in the front covering just enough to for Dean to feel comfortable with her wearing it in public. The straight black skirt hit just above her knee except over her left thigh, where it was split right up to her waist and overlapped from both sides, intriguing but again still suitable. The dragon necklace adorned her neck, the black dress and her smooth skin setting it off perfectly.

"We should go out," he whispered as his eyes roved over her figure.

Nancy beamed at him. "Why?"

Dean stood slowly, one hand reaching out to gently stroke up her arm to her shoulder. "To make the rest of the city jealous." When she quirked an eyebrow at him, Dean went on to explain, "The women'll be jealous because they're not you, and the men because they're not with you." He chuckled. "And some of the women for both reasons."

Nancy gave him a stern look and slap on his chest, which made him smile wider. "So?" Dean asked. "Want to go out or not?"

Nancy grinned as her arms wrapped around his neck. "Sure, baby." She pressed her body against his. "But are you wearing that?"

"What's wrong with it?" Dean demanded playfully, wrapping his arms around her. He'd rather not leave the room, if he had to be honest, but they needed to do more than just sex. He also wanted to prove he could go out and keep his eyes on her the whole time. In that dress, Dean doubted he would have a problem.

"Well, it's covered with blood, for one," Nance replied, pulling away with her nose wrinkled.

Dean looked down. It was true, his nice new suit had blood splatters down the front. Crap. Again?

"Guess I better not send it out to be cleaned, huh?" he asked with a wink. Nancy rolled her eyes at him. She stepped back and nodded. With a shrug, Dean caused the fire to climb up his body, burning away the expensive suit. Within moments he wore nothing but the black boxers and some fine gray ash. He brushed it off. "Okay, baby. What do I wear?"

* * *

All week the Post's headlines had screamed about the Dragon Slayer leaving his mark. So far there had been seven deaths, at least three of which had been their kind. Nidhug knew the symbol, it had finally been released to the press after the second attack. It was the sigil of _Draconêdismos Vermithrax. _He had once been allies with the great dragon, back in the day when their kind had ruled the world. Later, after they had been reduced to a demonic state, his old ally had fallen into disfavor with many of the others. Nidhug had abandoned his ally, choosing to part company rather than remain allied with an outcast. No doubt his actions would cause his name to be on the mighty dragon's list.

How had the former mighty dragon once again come into such power? Three dragons, all of whom had been tormentors of _Draconêdismos Vermithrax, _were dead. Their heads had been twisted around backwards. It confused the media, but human memory was short. Even humans had once employed the technique to brand traitors. Nidhug figured his life expectancy was short, but he was determined to change his fate.

The killings appeared random, but again Nidhug had information the media and law enforcement did not. They were pointed, simple, and each one took place in the dragon's home. Where it should be safe. Both attacks had occurred during the day. The followers of the dragons had been severely punished for choosing bad allegiances, their bodies twisted brutally until death had been a mercy. _Draconêdismos _had always been careful and cautious, but these acts were bold, brazen, perhaps even risky. The old dragon had found someone capable of carrying out his vengeance, and that someone was quite good. The police had no leads other than the dragon sigil.

Nidhug waited in an outdoor cafe which faced a nightclub certain to attract _Draconêdismos, _assuming he had found a suitable vessel for his mate, Nu-Kua. It was no secret the old dragon doted on his mate, to the point of foolishness. At some point he would want to treat her to a night out in style. The Inferno, an upscale and exclusive nightclub and restaurant, seemed perfect. Nidhug would come here every night if he had to, but he would find _Draconêdismos Vermithrax _and Nu-Kua. He had to offer his allegiance before they came for him. At least this way, if his allegiance was not accepted, his death should be quick.

According to the papers, the last attack on a couple in their own dining room had been vicious. The neighbors reported hearing screaming for twenty minutes before the police arrived. Once again there had been no evidence of the perpetrators except for the dragon sigil. The man had been turned into a human pretzel, apparently while the woman watched. Then her head had been twisted backwards, snapping her neck. He figured the dragon had been dead before its host, if the heavy gray smoke and smell of sulfur in the room was accurately reported. Nidhug hoped to at least spare his human companions the same fate.

A man and woman walked slowly down the sidewalk. Most patrons of The Inferno arrived in chauffeured cars or limos, not by foot. Despite the fact it was after sunset, they both wore dark shades. It was warm out this evening, so neither had a jacket. As they passed him, on the opposite side of the street, Nidhug was able to see the woman's back. Her sleek black dress was open in the back, exposing her entire back except for two spaghetti thin straps, all the way down to an elegant v shape at her tailbone. Nidhug might have whistled, except the exposure revealed the majestic black sigil of Nu-Kua.

His eyes snapped to the man escorting her, wearing black slacks and a stylish shiny black shirt, perhaps silk. His hair was cropped short and he wore an easy smile for her. It had to be _Draconêdismos Vermithrax._ Nidhug watched the couple walk slowly to the front of the line, as if they owned the place. The man did not even spare a glance for the attractive women they passed. Definitely _Draconêdismos. _ The gentleman standing at the front door with a clipboard smiled suddenly and held the door open for them.

Nidhug pulled out his cell phone. "Sarah, darling?" he said smoothly when his call was answered. "I need to be on the guestlist at The Inferno. Tonight."

He listened as his devout follower made the appropriate calls from another phone. She returned, breathless with anticipation, to tell him she had been successful.

"Care to join me?" Nidhug asked, eyes still pinned to the line across the street. "I think I found that old friend of mine I was telling you about."

She squealed before promising to meet him at the cafe in twenty minutes. Nidhug hoped it would be enough time for _Draconêdismos _to have at least ordered. His old ally could be a bit...grouchy...when he had not eaten.

Nidhug consumed several cups of coffee while waiting for his human female to arrive. At least she was punctual. Twenty minutes later, on the dot, a cab pulled up in front of the cafe and Sarah stepped out. She waved excitedly to him. Nidhug dropped a few dollars on the table before joining her.

They crossed the street together, by-passing the line to announce they were on the list. The human door attendant checked the list before allowing them entry. Nidhug remembered a time when he had such attendants preventing entry to individuals he did not wish to see. Ah, the good old days.

He and Sarah were escorted to a small table against the far wall. They had to sit next to each other with their backs against the wall. It was not the best table in the house, but Nidhug had learned over the past few centuries to accept the favors he could still get, besides, this position was defensible. Through his own dark shades, he scanned the restaurant area looking for the couple he had spotted outside.

"You too?" The sudden appearance of the waiter startled him. Nidhug's hand flashed out, ready to annihilate the interloper, but Sarah stilled his hand.

"Excuse me?" she asked sweetly, guiding his hand down to her thigh. He allowed his hand to rest there, gently kneading the soft flesh while he silently berated himself for being so jumpy.

The waiter gave him an odd look as the boy motioned to Nidhug's shades. "The sunglasses. There's a couple over there," he flapped a hand at the far left side, "who are both wearing them. She's a knock-out, though. You should see her tat!" He whistled through his teeth.

Sarah gave him a questioning look, to which Nidhug nodded. "Do you know if they're still there?" she asked sweetly, as only Sarah could.

The waiter nodded. "Sure, if they're not on the dance floor. Why? You know them?" He leaned over their table with interest. "See, me and the other waiters have a pool going. Some of the guys think they're big in Hollywood, somebody said diplomats. I think they're just stinkin' rich. Well?"

Nidhug nodded thoughtfully. "You're not far off."

He pumped a fist in the air before getting back down to work. "Your drink order?"

After the waiter walked away to place their drink order, Sarah leaned in to him. "When, master?"

He took a deep breath. "Now. Before I lose my nerve."

Sarah gave him a startled look. "Is this one so dangerous? Surely no match for you, sir."

Nidhug smiled at her naiveté. He swiped his thumb across her cheek, unable to resist showing his affection, even at a time like this. "There are two of them, and only one of me. I'm afraid I'm outmatched. And if the paper is right, outclassed as well. You should stay here. If I'm not successful, they might not be able to scent you out in this crowd."

Sarah's brow furrowed, which always looked cute on a human female. "Why would they scent me?"

His hand dropped to her thigh again. "They will be able to find my scent on you. I don't want you punished because of me, like the others."

"The others?" her voice rose to a high pitch. "You mean..."

Nidhug clamped a hand over her mouth before she drew attention to them. "Yes," he hissed in her ear. "The human pretzels." He lowered his hand slowly. Sarah was pale, but no longer loud.

Nihug started to move away, but Sarah crowded close to him. "Where you go, I go," she whispered, determination setting in her face. "Master."

He shrugged, allowing her to follow. Nidhug doubted any of his other followers would be so willing to face the possibility of becoming a human pretzel. Sarah never ceased to amaze him. He allowed her to take his hand as they wove through the other tables. She tugged on his hand as his gaze searched the far side of the restaurant.

Nidhug turned to see what she wanted. Sarah's hand shook as she pointed toward the dance floor. The couple he sought were in the center. Their dancing bordered on requiring a no children under seventeen rating, but it was mesmerizing. Nidhug found himself watching and unable to tear his eyes away. When the song stopped, the male offered his hand to lead the female off the floor. She took his hand, to scattered applause. They walked quickly off the floor, the male beaming at her the whole time. It was fortunate Nidhug had known them before, otherwise the sickly sweetness would turn his stomach.

He waited for the dragons to sit at their table, the human male holding out the female's chair. After they sat, the male nodded to him.

His stomach plummeted through the floor. They had been spotted. He had hoped to approach unknown; it would have been safer.

"Stay behind me," Nidhug whispered to Sarah. "Keep your gaze down. Show respect. Do not speak unless spoken to."

He watched her nod, her brow furrowing again. Nidhug took the lead, walking directly up to the humans possessed by his dragon brethren. As he closed the distance between them, Nidhug saw the human female possessed a second brand, the brand of _Draconêdismos_ on her right shoulder. Sarah had a similar brand of his sigil but hers was open and proclaimed ownership, not bonding.

_Draconêdismos _and Nu-Kua had been bonded for millennia, however, their bonding did not require for the vessels to bond. Vessels were merely vessels, no more important than an automobile was for a human. Some vessels were better than others, obviously, but surely even _Draconêdismos _would have better sense than to...

Oh, Hell. A full bonding with a human meant neither dragon would be body-hopping, but it afforded them certain privileges, such as immunity to exorcisms. So much for Plan B. His followers were screwed if this didn't work.

Nidhug lowered his head when he reached the table. He approached on _Draconêdismos' _side, knowing approaching Nu-Kua even in a restaurant full of witnesses could mean only certain death.

"Permission to kneel," he requested when he was close enough to be heard. Nidhug kept his head down, though _Draconêdismos _took his time answering.

"Very well," came the deep, rumbling voice.

Nidhug dropped to his knees, uncaring if he caused a scene among the humans. They could create any story they wished to explain it. He wished he could remember exactly how _Draconêdismos' _voice sounded, so he would know if it were the dragon or human speaking. At least, Nidhug thought theoretically the human could have some control in a bonding. He could be wrong about that.

"Baby," the female said, one arm draping across the male's shoulders, "is that who I think it is?"

The male smiled, a cold and threatening action. "Yeah, I think so. Was he next, or further down the list?"

The female leaned on his shoulder with a matching cold smile. "I thought Nidhug was near the bottom, where he should be." She let out a chilling laugh, a golden glow behind her shades. "With the bottom-feeders."

"Don't you dare-"

Nidhug's head snapped to the side as he punished Sarah for her insolence, hoping it was in time to save her life. She gasped, one hand wrapping around her own throat. He released her before causing any permanent damage, though he hoped she would be unable to speak for the time being. She stumbled a step back before her hand dropped away from her throat. He looked anxiously at his kind, to see if they would spare her.

"Cute, isn't she?" the female said, running a finger down the male's arm.

He chuckled at her. "If you say so, baby," he replied. "I didn't notice."

She whispered in his ear and he nodded. "State your business, Nidhug."

Nidug resumed his submissive position. "I wish to beg forgiveness and to offer my allegiance."

He snorted. Snorted? Nidhug chanced a glance up, where the male sneered down at him. "Allegiance?" he scoffed. "You gotta be kidding. Baby, he is kidding?"

"Must be," she purred. "After the way his allegiance worked the last time, we'd kill him if he offered it again. Nu-Kua swears Nidhug isn't so stupid." Elbow propped on the table, she rested her chin in her palm. "Maybe it's a joke."

The male nodded seriously at her as Nidhug felt his possessed body's heart pounding painfully. "My fealty?" he offered, having nothing else of value.

"Fealty?" The male appeared to be thinking it over seriously. "Baby, what do you think of fealty?"

"Maybe," she said with a sigh. "If you want, babe."

"Do you want him?" he asked, leaning close to her. "You can have him if you want him."

Nidhug watched in horror as his fate was being discussed with no more importance than finding the salt shaker.

The female shook her head. "Sounds like too much trouble. Keep him if you want him." She waved a hand at him. "Kill him if you don't, but hurry up. Our food is coming."

The male wrapped an arm around her shoulders. He whispered in her ear again and she giggled. Nidhug reached back in his memory for a time _Draconêdismos _had appeared so happy, but he came up empty.

"All right," the male said with a chuckle as he turned from their private conversation. "Meet us outside after dinner." He waved Nidhug away. "Bring your follower with you. We'll talk."

Nidhug backed away, bumping into other patrons in the process but not daring to turn around until he had reached a respectful distance. _Draconêdismos _was old-fashioned, even for a dragon, totally hung up on respect. He wasn't going to blow this by doing anything stupid.


	22. Chapter 22: Dinner And A Show

_**Chapter 22 – Dinner and A Show**_

_It is done,_ Draco purred smoothly, as Dean and Nancy started on the first course of their meal. _He did not even notice when I slipped inside his mind. He's grown weak. There was a time when it would not have been that easy._

_So, they're on their way? _Dean leaned over and gently kissed the side of Nancy's face.

_Each and every one. Yes. I imitated his voice, told them to come to his house out in the countryside. _

Nancy turned to face Dean, and as the kiss between them deepened the people at the next table turned to stare in appreciation.

After they finished the last course Dean and Nancy rose from the table and walked arm in arm out of The Inferno. Dean sensed Nidhug and Sarah from behind as they rose and followed at what they thought was a safe yet respectful distance.

Dean chuckled to himself. Around him, there was no such thing as safe. Not anymore.

_I will let you handle this,_ _anguigena, _Draco purred._ I am…curious to see your technique._

Dean's eyes widened. It was a good thing he was wearing those dark sunglasses. He recovered enough to nod smoothly at the maitre d' and the doorman.

Dudes were positively slobbering over him and Nancy. They were eager and submissive. After a lifetime of being stared at for one reason or another, a lifetime of being told he was trash and a freak, told to_ get out of town, boy, you're not our kind_…Dean liked the feeling this gave him.

He liked it a lot.

_You trust me with this? He's an old buddy of yours. Thought you wanted to deal with him._

_You know him as well as I do by now. Keep your friends close…_

…_and your enemies even closer, _Dean finished.

_Exactly. I trust your judgment in this matter, Dean. This is yours to decide._

Nancy sighed. "Beautiful night."

Dean kissed the top of her head. "Not half as beautiful as you are, Nance. Now and forever."

"Silver tongued devil," Nancy purred.

Dean smirked. "I can be, later, if you want."

She nodded and purred even louder. "I certainly _do_ want."

"We've had dinner. Now we're gonna have a show."

Nancy's eyes flashed. "Gonna make it good for me, babe?"

"Oh, yeah," Dean rumbled as he kissed a line down her throat. He lifted his head and smiled at Nidhug and Sarah. "Dude, you can come a little closer than that. We don't bite."

"Much," Nancy murmured, and they both snickered.

Nidhug kept his eyes lowered respectfully as he and Sarah moved closer. Dean laughed as he pulled off his shades. People walked up and down the street, cars passed all around them, and no one seemed to notice the tall, handsome man with those striking ruby red serpent eyes.

"It's okay. Take your glasses off." Dean inclined his head at all the normals around. "They won't notice a thing unless I let them."

Nidhug did so, slowly, with great hesitation. His eyes were like Dean's and Nancy's, serpent eyes, but a bright green color, with black slits. He was not used to exposing himself in public like this. It was obvious that Draco's vessel was an extremely talented one.

Sarah bristled, and Nidhug glanced sharply at her. She blushed slightly, still smarting from the way he treated her inside the club. She lowered her head and stared at the ground.

"That's better. We're all friends here, right?" Dean said warmly. He reached out with his mind, locked Nidhug and Sarah in place, as he began to bend the air around the four of them. It was a newfound skill, something Dean discovered he could do after watching that movie with Hayden Christensen.

The street scene rotated around them slowly. All the colors ran together, melted into smeared grey shapes before becoming solid again. Granted, these effects weren't as flashy as the effects were in the movie, but hell, that was _fake_.

This was _real_.

"Oh, I'm sorry," Dean smirked as Nidhug and Sarah sank to their knees in the grass, gasping and choking for air. "Thought we were gonna fly or something, huh? This way is much quicker."

Sarah's eyes rolled up white in her head. She slumped to the ground unconscious, while Nidhug remained awake, his breath hitching in his throat, his forehead touching the ground.

They had gone from the busy street outside The Inferno to the backyard of Nidhung's second home out in the country. It was about an acre of land, surrounded by trees at the back end. The scene was illuminated by spotlights from the back of the house, over the back deck. There was plenty of light to see by. Dean nodded in satisfaction.

His guests wouldn't miss a thing.

They were Nidhug's followers. About fifteen of them in all. Males and females. All races, all ages. The youngest one was eighteen. Three of them were silver-haired; they would never see fifty again in this lifetime.

Draco chuckled. _Some things never change._

They stood there in disbelief as Nancy and Dean stood their over their fallen chieftain and his companion. Dean smiled a little as several of them, two men and two women, pulled their guns and fired.

The bullets slammed into a barely visible shield that extended around the scene. The bullets struck the shield and slid off, flattened, into the grass.

Nancy looked bored.

Dean made a gesture, as simple as holding his hand up in mid-air and closing his fist, and the heads of the four shooters snapped around to a 180 degree circle, all the way around to their backs. The sound of their necks breaking was a brittle sound, like tree branches breaking in two. Dean held the bodies up on their feet for a moment, to let the others get a good look, before he let go and they fell to the ground, so much dead meat.

"Have I got everybody's attention now? Huh?" Dean stepped forward, spread his arms wide. His voice deepened to a basso roar. "I am _Draconêdismos Vermithrax, the Great Dragon Who Darkens the Sky, _and this is my mate_ Nu-Kua, She Who Must Be Obeyed." _Nancy stared at Nidhug's followers with thinly disguised comtempt. "Tell me _this_, children, do I need to make any more examples among you?"

No one moved.

"All right then." Dean nodded. His voice returned to normal, to that deep, smooth drawl. "Pay attention, boys and girls. There's gonna be a quiz later on."

"Baby," Nancy purred as she stepped up next to Dean and intertwined his left arm with his."I'm getting bored." She leaned into Dean, put her head on his shoulder. Her gaze fell on Nidhug and those golden eyes hardened. "Very bored," Nu-Kua snapped.

Dean looked at her with obvious affection. "Well. We can't have _that_, now can we?" He waited until Nidhug stopped gasping, and the other dragon settled its human host into an attitude of submission on his knees.

"Now what was it you offered us again? Your fealty?" Dean purred smoothly.

"Yes."

Dean quirked an eyebrow at him, clearly displeased. "Yes, what?"

"Yes, master."

"You know, where I come from, talk is cheap. You can make your mouth say anything. People lie like rugs, and dude, you're no different." Dean's ruby red eyes blazed hot for a second, and then the glow subsided, just a little.

"I can be useful to you, sir." Nidhug hated the pleading tone in his voice. His heart hammered against his ribcage. His mouth tasted like dirty copper. He'd lived centuries, but he still didn't want to die.

Nu-Kua smirked.

"Useful," Dean rolled the word around in his mouth. "Uh huh. Okay. You came to us. That tells me a lot. You ran like a rabbit the last time. Now you come crawling around offering yourself up, talking about allegiance and fealty."

Dean's tone was scornful. He frowned, but just as quickly those fine features of his smoothed out. "Everybody likes a winner. I get it. I do. Thing is, after the way you betrayed us last time, Nidhug, do you really think we want anything to do with you now?"

Dean raised his right hand, and bright yellow flame danced in the air around his fingers. "How friggin' stupid do you think we are?"

"Pl-please…please don't," Nidhug quavered. Sarah's eyes blinked open. She stared in disbelief and sorrow as her master hugged himself, cried and rocked back and forth on his knees.

Nancy yawned.

"Yeah, babe. You're right. I'm gettin' kinda bored myself," Dean said lazily as he stood over the other dragon. The flames winked out as Dean knelt down. "Tell you what, sport. Tonight's your lucky night. I'm feeling generous. A little bored, but, hey, that's_ my_ problem, _right_? We'll take your offer. We'll let you live, but first you have to prove that you're worthy."

"Anything. Anything---"

Dean raised an eyebrow. "Anything? Okay." He glanced at Sarah and smiled. "Glad you're awake for this, sweetheart. Makes this that much easier." Dean looked at Nidhug and smiled. "I want you to kill your girl there."

"Wha-what?"

"You heard me. You kill her, and we'll let you join our happy little family. Kill her, and we'll let you and yours live. Otherwise," Dean tilted his head to the side as he lifted his right hand up. His fingers glowed fire. "Me and the missus are gonna get _really_ bored." Dean raised his head, stared at the remaining eleven standing around. "Believe me, pal, you don't want_ that_."

Sarah gasped. She raised up on her elbows. Huh. She really did look scared of Nidhug all of a sudden. Scared, but hopeful, too, like she really didn't think he would do it.

"Is there…is there any way you'd like?" Nidhug stammered.

Dean stood up and stepped back. He put his arm around Nancy and she snuggled into his side like a contented cat. "Surprise me."

* * *

"Hey, Singer?"

"Kirkwood? You dumb bastard. Is that you?"

"Pot callin' the kettle black, Robert. How the hell are ya?"

"If things were goin' good I wouldn't have called your sorry ass."

"That's true. Understand you're looking for a dragon, huh?"

"Yep. "

"You do realize how damn crazy that sounds, right?"

"I called you, didn't I?"

"Yeah, you did. Okay. Dude's name is Joseph Black."

"Uh, yeah…"

"Don't take that tone with me, Bobby boy. You wanted a dragon, I got you one. At least he says he's one. I've seen strange things happen around that dude, Singer, so you watch your back. He lives in Camden, New Jersey. 4934 Whitman Avenue."

"Thanks. I owe you."

"Nah. We're even. I wouldn't even be here if it wasn't for you. And Bobby?"

"Yeah?"

"When you go see Black, make sure you bring him an offering. Scotch. Johnny Walker Blue Label."

"Blue, huh? Not a problem."

"Yeah, he's a freak, but he's a freak with expensive tastes."

"What does this Joe Black look like?"

"Tall, skinny. Pale white complexion, and weird looking eyes. He never goes out, so he ought to be at home when you swing by."

"I'll remember that. Thanks, Frank."

"Don't thank me. You might be cussing my name after you meet the son-of-a-bitch."

* * *

Sarah didn't scream very much.

She still had that look of disbelief on her face, even as Nidhug's hands closed around her neck. Dean stared around at the others, ready to make more examples, but it wasn't necessary.

They were riveted by the sight of their broken leader killing one of his devoted followers.

Nidhug didn't want her to suffer, but he didn't want to die. She had to know that, understand that. He stared into her eyes and saw fear and contempt there. It was _How could you do this, bow to those two,_ and then there was nothing as he reached out with his mind and her head snapped all the way around to the back.

Her eyes blanked, and then he let go, blinked as she crumpled lifelessly to the ground.

"Well, babe?" Dean asked Nancy and Nu-Kua.

"It was entertaining enough," Nancy sighed. The slight rumble in her voice told him that Nu-Kua agreed.

"Okay then," Dean said briskly. "You're in, Nidhug. Now, there's just one more thing."

Nidhug staggered upright, as his suit jacket, shirt and tie were ripped from his body.

Dean blinked. "Come on over here." He had everyone's attention. "Just so we're clear, just so everyone here knows who you belong to from now on."

Nidhug stumble-stepped over to Dean and Nancy, as the others stood and watched.

This was good. He didn't have to touch him. Didn't have to lay a hand on him, but right now Dean wanted Nidhug to have the personal touch. Dean placed his hand on Nidhug's bare chest and smirked. "This might sting a little."

It hurt like hell, but Nidhug didn't scream, not even when flames spread from Dean's palm, burned Draco's sigil onto his chest.

Dean swept the smoke and odor of singed flesh away from them, in the opposite direction. He knew Nancy would be in a foul mood of that dress of hers was damaged by smoke.

Nidhug's knees buckled. He was on the edge of unconsciousness now. Dean caught him with his mind, lowered him to the ground before them on his knees. The others were riveted. It was a show, pure and simple, a display of power meant to reinforce the idea that Dean and Nancy were indeed in charge.

"Now what?" Nancy murmured.

"Easy or hard," Dean murmured back. "Their choice." He eyed the others, already making decisions who he would take down first. There was a moment when Dean actually didn't know which way it would go. A moment when he could not read their faces or body language.

Then one by one, the rest of Nidhug's followers knelt down in submission to their new master and mistress.

One by one.


	23. Chapter 23: Meet Joe Black

Chapter 23:** Meet Joe Black**

"Should we take back a couple of them?" Dean asked as he passed a hand over Nidhug's former followers. "You could use them as personal attendants."

Nancy rolled her eyes. "No, thanks." She wrinkled her nose at him. "I don't want them staying with us."

"I've been thinking that maybe we need the whole penthouse floor to ourselves," Dean informed her. "It seems more appropriate. They can stay in the other half."

"If they'd follow that bottom-feeder," she said with a displeased growl in her voice.

Dean waved away his suggestion. "You're right, of course. We'll find someone you like. Until then, I'll use Nidhug for a few errands."

"Sure, babe," Nancy crooned, leaning into him. "Can we go home now?"

Dean double-checked that each one of Nidhug's entourage knew the location of their new masters, reaching not-so-gently into their minds. Once he was satisfied they would follow, Dean moved himself, Nancy and Nidhug back to the crowded streets of New York. He slid his shades back on. There was such a thing as maintaining appearances. He might need a few new suits too, if Nance felt up to going shopping with him tomorrow. He wouldn't dare go alone, he might buy something she didn't like.

They had to wait as Nidhug collected himself. Man, the dude should've chosen a better vessel. This one had a seriously weak stomach. When Nidhug was more composed, Dean motioned for him to run ahead to the hotel so he could open the door for them. Inside, Nidhug rushed to push the call button for the elevator. Dean was starting to like it.

"Tell the front desk we require the entire penthouse now," Dean told him as Nance stepped inside the elevator. "You'll stay in the other side. Be outside my door first thing in the morning. I have a few errands for you."

"Yes, master," Nidhug said quickly, backing away with his head bowed.

Dean draped an arm over Nancy's shoulders as the doors closed. "I could get used to this."

Nancy reached up to turn his face towards hers. "Oh, yeah?"

Dean scanned each of the floors as the elevator rose, searching for potential dangers. It was becoming routine, second nature; he barely had to concentrate. With a wicked grin, he spun on Nancy, picking her up and twirling her around inside the elevator. She laughed gaily, hands braced on his shoulders. He wouldn't lower her until the elevator stopped and the doors opened, and even then he only lowered her enough for Nance to wrap her legs around his waist as he carried her out.

"We could take over the elevator," he said suggestively.

"Oh, no," Nancy replied as she whipped off her sunglasses. "You're paying more attention to me than that." Her eyes had a glow of anticipation and demand.

"Yes, Beloved," Dean and Draco responded, their voices a perfect blend. A part of Dean's mind wondered if it were possible for them to blend further, for him to no longer be able to distinguish between himself and Draco.

_You think too much, little one_, Draco chided. _What is the point? We are one_.

The door to the penthouse opened for them, unlocked and opened remotely by Dean. He carried their mate inside pressing longing kisses to her throat. Yeah, what was the point? It wasn't like he would do anything about it if he could.

* * *

"It's a dragon, Sam," Bobby argued. "We go in the middle of the day, with two bottles of blue label..."

"Two!" Sam protested. "But that stuff's expensive!"

"Two," Bobby repeated sternly. "And I'm payin' for it, so shut up." He cleared his throat to attempt to inform Sam of the plan. "I'll go to the door and you stay with the car. That way," he made a 'calm down' motion with both hands, "if anything goes wrong you can bust in and exorcise him."

Sam glared at him. "And if this one, assuming it's really a dragon, has a willing host? You said exorcism won't work."

Bobby nodded. "All the more reason for you to stay with the car. Then if it kills me, you can still go after Dean."

Sam's glare was so like John Winchester it was downright eerie. "Forget it," he growled. Damn, kid had the voice down, too. "We go together or not at all."

Yeah, so Bobby had been trying to shield the kid. So what? He had a bad, bad feeling about this whole business. Damn it! Why didn't he think of tracking Dean's cell when the boy didn't call for three friggin' weeks? Hell, why hadn't _he_ called Sam? This mess was his fault, plain and simple. There was a reason he and Dean checked in, it was because of crap like this. And what had Bobby done when Dean missed three, count 'em three, check-ins? Nuthin'. Why? Oh, Sam was with him, if anything were really wrong Sam would call.

Ha.

Assuming any of them made it through this alive, Bobby wouldn't make that kind of amateur mistake again. If Dean ever missed another check-in, Bobby would be hunting his ass down. Damn it!

"Fine," he grumbled. Then Bobby pressed a finger into Sam's broad chest. "But you're followin' muh lead. You might be a Winchester, but that don't make you no god of hunting. I still got a few tricks up muh sleeve."

"Yes, sir," Sam said quickly.

First thing in the morning they headed out for Jersey. Once it was past nine in the morning, they found one of those huge liquor stores, the kind that sells every damn thing under the sun that's alcoholic. Sam came in to help him find the Blue Label, until he saw the prices. He growled something about people who should drink beer before going out to wait in the car. Bobby ignored him, grabbing two bottles before checking out. The clerk was all smiles. Ought to be, at these frigging prices. Bobby carried his purchases carefully out to the car. He doubted they would give him another bottle if he dropped one outside the door.

The engine was running when Bobby set his brown bag on the passenger seat. He climbed in slowly, shifting the bottles to ride in his lap. It still felt weird to be in this car without either John or Dean.

"How long?" Bobby asked, shifting in the passenger seat.

"About an hour," Sam replied.

* * *

Nidhug waited anxiously outside his master's door. His new master had decreed he should wait here 'in the morning.' Since first light, Nidhug had been standing in the hallway outside this door. It had only been an hour, but his legs were tired and he desperately wanted to sit. Nidhug dared not be caught sitting while awaiting his master's orders.

When the doorknob turned, Nidhug nearly jumped out of his possessed skin. He started to chide himself for being so jumpy, but such thoughts reminded him of Sarah. Poor girl. She had been so loyal, which no doubt had been the reason _Draconêdismos _singled her out.

_Draconêdismos _stepped out into the hallway dressed in jeans and shirt, most unbecoming of his status though Nidhug would never dare give voice to the thought. "I'd invite you in, but our mate doesn't care for you too much." His smile was cold, the grin of a predator. It reminded Nidhug of the old days, when they had their own skins and proper wings. "Your side."

Nidhug approached the other door, but it opened before he could reach for it. Swallowing hard, he remembered just in time to step aside for his master.

"You're learning," _Draconêdismos_ murmured as he passed. Nidhug took a steadying breath before following. "First, there are a few ground rules."

Nidhug pushed the door closed. He turned to face his master with his gaze averted, as was respectful and proper.

"_Draconêdismos_ is a pretty cool name, but you just don't hear it on the streets, so I want you to refer to me as Dean or Draco."

Nidhug nodded at the floor. "Yes, master."

"Look at me when I'm talking to you," he snarled. Nidhug's head snapped up, shocked by the request. "I want to be sure you're paying attention."

"Y-yes, master." Perhaps _Draconêdismos_ had grown reckless as he aged. Or senile. It was not unknown in their kind. "And Nu-Kua?" he asked in his most non-threatening, respectful voice.

Draco's face hardened. "You don't speak to her. At all. As a matter of fact, I don't want her to see you. Understood?"

Nidhug nodded rapidly, his mind churning for the proper response.

"Good." Draco glared at him. "You did bring something to write with?"

Nidhug scrambled to remove the small notepad and pen from his pocket. "Yes, master. Ready, sir." He glanced up when Draco did not begin right away.

"Sire," he said slowly, his red serpent eyes glowing. "Yes, we think sire is more respectful."

"Yes, sire," Nidhug replied, emphasizing 'sire'. Perhaps it was this possession. Could _Draconêdismos _have chosen a vessel capable of controlling one of their kind? The lust for power within their kind had waned over the past millennia, but when combined with a strong and willing vessel... Nidhug had no idea what might be possible. He had never witnessed such a thing before.

Draco nodded majestically. "Good. First there are a few dragons I'd like you to visit." The cold predatorial smile was back. Nidhug began to wonder if he made the right choice. Perhaps he should have hidden. Nu-Kua had said he was at the bottom of the list. He might have survived for at least, oh, another week?

Sweat trickled down his neck, catching in his collar as he scribbled down names and addresses. Draco's list wasn't sounding too healthy for him either, but what alternative did he have? None, except to hope for a quick death from some quarter, though it seemed more likely to be from Draco himself than his enemies.

* * *

Sam shadowed Bobby up to the front door of a shabby house. The neighborhood was older, probably nice middle-class when it was new. Now most of the houses had bars on the windows and people peered past their curtains, too afraid to show their faces. Faded blue paint peeled from the front of the house. Some dying vines clung to one corner of the house, the last remnants of a more prosperous era.

The front porch was screened in, the metal screen red with rust and holes in a few areas. Sam noticed markings around the top of the porch, carved into the wood. He pointed it out to Bobby.

Bobby shook his head. "Don't recognize it," he muttered under his breath. "Might be a dragon thing."

The older hunter cleared his throat and pulled out one of the bottles he carried. "I heard someone named Joe Black liked this stuff." His voice was loud and clear. If Joe were in the back of the house he would still be able to hear Bobby.

"What are ya?" A voice demanded from behind two doors. Sam couldn't manage a good look.

"You seem a little jumpy," Bobby said. "I think you got good reason for it. That's what we want ta talk about." He shrugged. "Might know of a safe place."

The door creaked as it opened. A strange hissing noise came from the skinny man who stepped out, the skinny dude with sapphire blue serpent eyes. Sam automatically stepped back, one hand on Bobby's shoulder pulling him away from the danger. Joe Black's head tilted at an unnatural angle. Well, it was unnatural for a human, for a reptile it might be about right. He sniffed the air, his nostrils flaring as his eyes took on a supernatural glow.

"Killed a lot," Black said, voice rough and low. "Name."

"Singer," Bobby replied, pulling hard at Sam's restraining hand but Sam held fast.

Black sniffed in Sam's direction. "You've killed more. Name."

Sam glared into those alien blue eyes. "Sam Winchester."

Black's eyes blinked slowly. Twice. "You brought my favorite. Last meal?"

"Bribe," Bobby said as he held out one bottle. "We need information. About your kind."

Black stood aside and motioned for them to come in.

"How about the porch?" Bobby asked. The porch door creaked loudly as it opened.

Black chuckled at them as he sat slowly on a lawn chair missing about half its straps. He wrestled the cap open and took a deep whiff, exhaling slowly. "I'd almost forgotten what the good stuff was like. Wait here."

Sam watched the 'dragon' walk by, his nerves twanging louder than the Grand Ole Opry. Bobby's gaze was strong but there was no reprimand, nothing said of Sam being too nervous. As a matter of fact Bobby was tense, hunting tense.

"Think we can trust him?" Sam whispered.

Bobby snorted. "Nope." He glanced over. "You packin'?"

Was Bobby kidding? Sam couldn't believe he had just been asked such a stupid question.

Bobby frowned. "Just checkin', Sam. Don't look at me like that."

Sam dragged his eyes away from Bobby to resume his vigil. Joe Black stepped out of the house holding three mismatched glasses.

"I'll share," he said as he crossed back to his bottle, "but only a little." Black's chuckle was deeper than it should have been for such a thin, frail looking body.

"Sam," Bobby hissed as Black passed around the glasses with a finger of deep brown liquor, "pictures."

"Oh, right." Sam pulled out his printouts from the tatt contest. He handed them out to Black. "I don't suppose you recognize them?"

Black glanced over the pic of Dean and Nancy's faces with a shrug. "Lots of drags have red eyes. Gold isn't common, I could only name two who are female."

"Does it matter?" Bobby asked, leaning forward to rest his forearms on his knees.

Black shot Bobby a hard look. "It matters. Only females may inhabit a female body."

"Why?" Sam asked. When Black turned those freaky eyes on him, his stomach turned. "I-I mean, if you're basically demons, you should be able to take over any body. I've seen a demon go body-hopping and then take over a plane. Why would gender make a difference?"

Black sipped slowly at his Johnny Walker. He exhaled in contentment. "Before my kind was reduced to..." He sneered disdainfully and waved a hand over his body. "...this, we were mighty. We ruled the land and the skies. Your kind were pathetic creatures, barely clothed, no real weapons to speak of." He sipped again. "Our culture was old when your ancestors crawled out of the mud. We respect our females. If your kind showed more respect to your life-bringers, the world would be in better shape." He lounged back in the threadbare chair. "Trust me, I've seen it."

"Check the other picture," Bobby urged, his whiskey untouched.

Black's head nodded to one side before he slipped the top page to the back. Then his blue serpent eyes widened, which Sam wouldn't have thought possible. The slitted black iris flashed open as he stared at the picture of Dean and the girl's tattoos.

"I take it you weren't expecting what you see?" Bobby asked, face creased with concern.

"Now I know why the heads were turned around backwards," Black said with his eyes fixed to the page. "The male? _Draconêdismos Vermithrax._ The female is his mate, Nu-Kua." His head nodded to the side again. "This means someone will be paying me a visit."

"Why?" Sam asked as his hopes soared. Dean might come here. They could have a direct link to his brother. Bobby's stupid idea was working out pretty well so far.

"After our kind was reduced to this state," Black spat the last word out. "_Draconêdismos_ fell out of favor with most of the others. You see, he had been very powerful among us."

"And you were one of the ones he fell out of favor with, right?" Sam asked. "That's why you're expecting a visit?" He wanted, needed, confirmation.

Black sighed again as he picked up his bottle of Blue Label. "I'll have to enjoy this." His eyes met Sam's. "No, there is another reason I am considered a traitor. I did not stand by their side and defend them. In our culture this is unforgivable. You see..." He held up the picture of Dean and the girl. "These are my parents."


	24. Ch24: How Sharper Than A Serpent's Tooth

**Chapter 24 – How Sharper Than A Serpent's Tooth**

Nidhug pocketed the list and scurried away, bowing, out the door. He was careful not to slam the door behind him. Dean felt Draco grin, and his own lips curled upwards, feral and wolfish.

If Nidhug had slammed the door, correction would have been in order. The human body was wonderously fragile. So many places to start, so many bones to break, splinter, and shatter.

Dean reached out with his mind and watched. Nidhug pushed at the down button on the panel. His shoulders were slumped down, submissive, even when Dean wasn't around.

_Huh,_ Dean thought to himself. _I made this dude my bitch. Totally my bitch._

Draco chuckled.

Of course, if Nidhug had dared to take even one step towards Nancy's and Nu-Kua's room, Dean would have vaporized him on the spot. Apparently Nidhug knew that too. He kept his head down as he shambled into the elevator, like a man --- or a dragon --- going to his own execution.

If some of the other dragons on the list killed Nidhug, well, no great loss. Nancy couldn't stand him anyway. There were plenty more warm bodies around to fill his slot. Eleven immediately came to mind. And if Nancy and Nu-Kua found them to be unsuitable, which was highly likely, there was a whole world out there, millions of warm bodies to choose from.

_Damn. Never had minions before._ Dean smirked to himself. This part was fun.

_Anguigena,_ Draco murmured softly. _There is a matter we must attend to. It might make Nidhug's task a little easier. Not that I really care if they kill him or not. If we make an example of this one, though, the rest will most likely fall in line._

_Really?_

_Yes. We should leave now._

_Dude, I want to say goodbye to Nancy first._

_There is no need. This will not take long._

_

* * *

_"We can protect you," Sam said calmly. "We can help you if you let us."

Black laughed.

It was one of the most terrible things Sam had ever seen, or heard. That deep, basso voice coming out of that pale, skinny body. Black laughed so hard he nearly choked, bowed over in that rickety lawn chair of his. He finally straightened up, those sapphire blue eyes of his bright with ill-concealed humor. "You can't protect _yourself_, much less shield_ me_ from my father's wrath. 'preciate the gesture, but no."

Bobby shrugged. "Then you don't mind if we pick your brains then?"

Black lifted the bottle of Jack Black Blue in one hand. "Paid for it. Ask away."

"The man in that picture is a friend of mine. And his brother," Bobby nodded at Sam. "Name's Dean Winchester. We think Dean willingly gave himself to this Draco."

Black's eyes nearly slitted shut. "At County General."

"Wait. You knew where Draco was all along?"

Black smirked. "It was common knowledge that the old dragon made his lair there." Black's nose wrinkled in disgust. "Preying on the sick, weak and dying. How low the mighty had fallen. He had become a joke among our kind."

"Where was the female…" Sam glanced down at the tat contest photos. "This _Nu-Kua_, during all that time?"

Black shrugged. "Awaiting his return down in hell, I suppose. She had been banished from this earth."

"Okay." Bobby rubbed both hands together. Gave him something to do. "Exorcism won't work on a willing host. Is that right?"

Black nodded as he sipped at his glass.

"I'll take that as a yes," Bobby said dryly. "Is there anything that _will_ work?"

Black huffed. Sam earnestly hoped he was not going to start laughing again. "Depends."

"On what?"

"Depends on your brother. This…_Dean_."

* * *

_Nancy? You were wise not to want Nidhug's followers here,_ Nu-Kua sighed. Nancy closed her eyes and turned her face up into the warm shower spray. _They are not worthy to share this space with us._

_Dean was sweet to ask but it's bad enough Nidhug is here._ Nancy smoothed shampoo and water through her long curly hair. The shampoo was lavender scented, and expensive.

The smell reminded Nu-Kua of the vast gardens her humans tended for her, back in days gone by. She would sit there for hours, soaking up the sun, luxuriating in the various scents, basking in all the bright colors of the flower blooms.

It was something Nu-Kua missed while she was down in hell.

Nu-Kua remembered the day that she alighted into her garden, leaned down, closed her eyes, and jerked back with a growl of displeasure rising in her massive throat.

Something was different. Something was _wrong_.

The lavender her gardener had planted was a different kind than the year before. The scent was weaker.

_This would not do. _

She called together her garden staff, and the head human stepped forward. His name was Erleth. He was one of her favorites, always responsive to her wants and desires. She gave him a lot of leeway in the performance of his duties.

Perhaps_ too_ much.

Nu-Kua lowered her head so that they stared at each other eye to eye. An example had to be made, so she devoured him on the spot with a sideways snap of her massive jaws.

The others didn't even flinch. They knew better.

There were no more mistakes in Nu-Kua's garden after that.

As the suds ran down Nancy's back Nu-Kua's sigil stretched itself, flexed cat-like underneath the warm spray. Life was good now, and it could only get better.

_I have a few loyal subjects in mind. _Nu-Kua chuckled. _Those who can be trusted. You'll feel more comfortable with them. I do not expect Draco and Dean to understand about that, but we do. Sometimes our mates need our guidance. _The black dragon chuckled._ Most of the time, actually. _

Nancy nodded, a slight smile on her lips, as she stood underneath the shower spray.

_Our bonding is perfect, _Nu Kua purred. _The best I've ever had. _The memory of Nancy in the elevator, the way her body moved with power and sureness as she killed the traitors, as she broke their bones and twisted their bodies into unimaginable shapes, was exquisite, a memory Nu-Kua would forever cherish. _We ruled this world once. _

"We will rule it again, and so will our children," Nancy murmured out loud, and Nu-Kua smiled.

* * *

Bobby leaned forward. "Gonna have to explain that. It depends on Dean? How?"

"My father apparently fills a need in that one. In your brother," Black nodded at Sam. Sam flinched a little and Black's cold blue eyes blinked. Slowly. "Free will bonds them together. The host in a possession such as this is not as helpless as one might think. Especially if he is strong-willed, talented, and withholds a part of himself."

"I'm not following you," Sam murmured.

"Your brother…is he stubborn?"

Bobby rolled his eyes. "Lord, yes."

Sam nodded.

"Killed a lot?''

Sam sighed. "More than me."

Black's nearly non-existent eyebrows raised up higher than Sam would have thought possible.

"My father wants to reclaim his place as Emperor. If your brother is talented, and judging from what I saw on the news, he is…then the old dragon may decide to allow him to keep some part of his old life. As a reward."

"You said it depends on Dean." Sam frowned. "Exactly what did you mean by that?"

Black opened his mouth. At least he tried to. His eyes widened as he fell back against the back of the lawn chair. The fingers of his right hand opened and the glass with half a finger of Jack Black Blue tumbled free, hit the worn floorboards and shattered into pieces.

Bobby sat there, frozen in place.

Sam thought about moving. He did. He couldn't. The hair on the back of his neck stood straight up, rigid and painful, and the first and only name he thought of right then made a cold feeling of dread and worry curl down his spine.

_Dean._

_

* * *

_Dean stood on the sidewalk in front of the Black house. Anyone who walked by would see just a young man wearing dark sunglasses in the daytime. Not an unusual sight.

_Sam and Bobby are here. _Dean sounded calmer than he really felt._ You didn't tell me that. _

_Does it matter? I did not think it was important. They are not the reason we are here._

Dean didn't move.

_Well?_ Draco rumbled impatiently. _Make this memorable for me, child._ _I said I would never harm them. You kept your word. I will honor mine, and gladly._

Dean raised his hand to his face, removed his sunglasses. His serpent's eyes went to slits in the bright sunlight, and the ruby red of his eyes flared hot and bright as he raised his right hand and gestured at the porch.

The screen door crumbled into dust. The rest of the front porch followed in the blink of an eye. The only thing left was those rickety wooden steps and the rest of the house, which was none too sturdy before, even with the porch attached. Dean was careful enough to leave the support posts intact. For now, at least.

Joe Black moved suddenly as Dean released his hold on him. That pale thin chest of his heaved as he sucked in large lungfuls of air. Sam and Bobby sat there on either side of Black, immobile. They could see Dean.

They could see _everything_.

Dean walked forward, his head tilted slightly to one side. After a few more steps his nostrils flared, and he stopped dead in his tracks.

"No," Dean said softly.

_WHAT?_

"He's…he's family."

_He was. He was my son_, Draco rumbled._ If I allow him to live, then the others will think we are weak._

"Why do we…we don't have to do this…"

_Yes, we do. _

"Nu-Kua would ---"

_Do not bring her into this. Nu-Kua is aware of my intentions. A millennia ago she tried to defend his worthless hide. That was before she discovered his betrayal. They almost killed her. Because of him._

It was the damndest thing. Dean thought of Gordon Walker, of all people, thought about how matter of fact Gordon acted when he admitted he'd hunted his own sister.

"_Killed my sister? That filthy fang didn't kill my sister. It turned her. Made her one of them. So I hunted her down and I killed her myself."  
_

"_You did what?"  
_

"_I didn't blink, and neither would you."_

_I do not understand, _Draco rumbled. Dean nearly groaned aloud as the dragon tat on his back contracted, pulling on his skin and muscles. It was suddenly hard to breathe._ You have killed without mercy to protect us. Not only that, you reveled in it. Yet this is the first time you have hesitated. The first time you have openly defied me._

"He…he's your son…our son…"

_Not any longer. _

"You don't…treat family like that. You don't kill family." Dean shook his head in the negative, took a few steps back. "You don't…."

"_If you can't save Sam, Dean," Dad whispered hoarsely, the last time Dean saw him alive, "you'll have to kill him." _

_I gathered that from your memories. Saw the way you allowed your younger brother to defy your family. To defy you. _

"We can leave. _Right now._" Dean shook his head as he took a step back. He was wide-eyed, pleading. "We don't have to do this ---"

_I cannot allow that. He is a traitor, anguigena, no more related to us than humans would be. I see this was too much to ask of you. Too much, too soon, Dean. I appreciate your loyalty to family above all. I will handle this myself._

Dean was pulled backwards then, yanked back down deep inside his skin. Everything narrowed all at once, from broad open daylight all around him to a darkened tunnel with a faint pinpoint of light at the end, and in a second even that went black.

* * *

Sam could blink. He could breathe. That was all.

He could still see Bobby at the edge of his vision, sitting there frozen in place. Sam willed his lips to move, wanted to yell out something, anything. He was riveted on the sight of his brother, as Dean stopped just short of the steps in that shabby yard over run with weeds.

Sam saw the exact moment the dragon rose up in Dean's skin. Saw Dean's white shirt rip open as massive bronze wings, smooth as expensive leather, literally exploded from his back. Draco reached up -- and it _was_ Draco now, _that_ was obvious, from the too fluid way Dean's body moved -- and pulled what was left of Dean's shirt off.

Dean's eyes shone with an awful ruby red light, and all Sam could do was just sit there when those eyes settled on him. Dean's full mouth quirked upwards in a wicked sharp smile that promised cruelty and malice. It was all too familiar, and for a moment Sam imagined himself back at County General, strapped down to that hospital bed, as this thing that was now clothed in his brother's body taunted him.

"Samuel," Draco rumbled. "Good to see you again." He looked at Bobby and chuckled. "You certainly travel in pairs, don't you?"

Those ruby red eyes glittered as they regarded Joe Black with laser-like precision. "You know why I'm here, Namiazas."

Joe Black nodded. "I do." He reached down, carefully screwed the top back onto the bottle of Johnny Walker Blue, then carefully placed the bottle on the worn floorboards right next to his chair. "I've been waiting for you."

"Then let's get started, shall we?" Draco purred. He blinked, and Sam and Bobby found themselves flying through the air, Sam on Dean's left, Bobby on Dean's right, suddenly unfrozen as Draco walked up the stairs. "I promised Dean I would not harm either of you. I will keep my word."

Sam couldn't see the wings anymore, it was all he could do but tuck and roll as he hit the ground. Good thing the lawn was filled with thick, tall weeds. It did help to cushion the fall.

"Bastard," Bobby groaned as he rolled over on his side.

"Family business," Draco said out loud. "Family only." He was suddenly _there _on what was left of the front porch, his large bronze wings folded tightly against his back, nose to nose with his wayward son.

"Well?"

"I had high hopes for you, Namiazas._ Very_ high hopes. You failed me. You failed your family."

"Your hopes," Black said calmly. "Perhaps all that time you spent at County General dulled your senses, father. Preying on humans for all these years. Pathetic."

Draco smiled fiercely. "So you say."

"Yes, I do--" Black grunted as Dean's ---Draco's --- right hand slammed into his chest, so fast it was a blur. Sam was on his hands and knees by that time, right next to Bobby. Both men blinked, and they missed it.

Draco raised his hand up to Joe Black's eye level.

He held Joe Black's still beating heart in his bloody hand.

Joe Black stood there, startled.

"_This_?" Draco smirked. "_This_ is pathetic. As you tore your own family's heart out, I now return the favor," Draco spat. Just as quickly, he tossed the heart down on the floor, reached up and twisted Joe Black's head around. Black's neck snapped like brittle dry twigs. His head drooped forward, the chin resting limply between his shoulder blades.

"Dean? No!" Sam shouted. He was halfway on his feet somehow. Bobby pulled him back. "Sam? Damn it, don't --- "

Draco unfurled his wings, leaped upwards so fast he was a blur. The edge of his wings clipped the side of the house.

It didn't take much to bring the whole thing crashing down.

The last thing Sam remembered was Bobby Singer cursing a blue streak as he pulled Sam backwards, and the air around them was filled with dirt, dust, and debris. The gas line must have ruptured, because a bright orange blossom of flame erupted through the roof.

The next few moments were all a blur. Sam remembered Bobby digging into his jacket pocket for the Impala's keys, vaguely remembered Bobby muscling him into the passenger side. The door creaked shut, and the next thing Sam remembered was the rumble of the girl's engine as Bobby started her up.

They were several side streets away, and still no sign of first responders, police or otherwise. It wasn't like that neighborhood had a watch group or something.

"Think we're clear," Bobby murmured. "Got a set of good license plates in my duffel in the back. Soon as I can I'll pull over in an alley and make the switch, just to be sure."

Sam stared into space, dully, with the shell-shocked expression of a man who has seen the unthinkable. "Did you see him, Bobby? Did you see what Dean did?"

Bobby grunted as he looked for an alleyway. "I saw what Draco did."

"What?"

"Think for just a damn moment, Sam. Remember what Black told us. This…possession…whether it takes or not depends on Dean."

"So?" Sam scoffed. "Dean couldn't stop that back there."

"True." Bobby shrugged. "But we had more than we had when we came. We have names now. _Draconêdismos Vermithrax_ and_ Nu-Kua_. We got more than that. Dean was fighting its scaly ass. You saw that, didn't you, Sam?"

"I saw it," Sam said dully.

"First thing we do when we get back to the motel, I gotta few calls to make, see if that Korean priest knows Dean's room mate."

Sam nodded. He stared into space, and all he could see were Dean's ruby red serpent eyes.

* * *

Nancy moved silently, with her back against the wall. The outside door to the penthouse hot tub was in the living room. She'd heard that loud thump moments before, when she was in the kitchen. Nu-Kua's sigil flexed itself. The black dragon was restless, Nancy would almost say nervous about something.

Whatever it was Nu-Kua was not saying.

Nancy eased along the wall next to the door. Between herself and Nu-Kua she was more than a match for just about anything out there, but she was mindful of the fact that if whoever or whatever this was had containment or binding spells or charms that worked on dragons and their vessels, that _might_ be a problem. With his enhanced abilities Dean was the only one who could break free easily. They had no effect on him.

Nancy peered around the corner of the drapes, and her eyes widened.

She forgot about being stealthy, forgot about all that. She saw short spiky dark blond hair, saw Draco's sigil on her mate's broad, strong back and shoulders, and threw caution to the winds.

Nu-Kua was still silent.

Dean sat there on the ledge of the hot tub, dressed in the blue jeans and boots Nancy last saw him wearing that morning. The white shirt he had on was gone. His feet and legs were in the water. The jets in the tub were off.

Dean looked horribly young and vulnerable, despite the stubble on his jawline, despite the blood coating his right hand. He sat there and rocked back and forth, slightly. The look in his eyes was what scared the hell out of her: wide and staring. Blank.

"Dean?"

He continued to rock back and forth. Nancy reached out with her mind and got a glimpse of a white padded room, soft walls.

She shook her head. County General.

"Oh, babe," Nancy breathed sadly. She knew that place from the bonding, knew what had taken place there. Dean was an open book to her, as she was to him.

_What's…what's happened to him?_

_He will be fine in a little while,_ Nu-Kua murmured softly. _Draco had to discipline him._

Nancy pushed down the first stirrings of anger. _Discipline him? Why?_

_He refused to kill our son. _

Nancy moved closer to the edge of the tub. Dean didn't react when she knelt down next to him. Her own fingers shook as she reached out. When she took Dean's hand in hers, he didn't seem to notice.

"Babe? Dean, you okay?" Nancy murmured gently.

Dean just sat there with his head down, staring at his bloody hand in his lap. He rocked back and forth, and he didn't say a word.


	25. Chapter 25: Hanging In There

Chapter 25 – **Hanging in There**

Dean heard Nancy calling him, but it was from far away. Her voice was the bright light at the end of a deep dark tunnel. He felt an urge, a need, to follow it, but Dean resisted.

_Go little one_, Draco whispered. _Our mate awaits. Go_.

Dean continued his rhythmic rocking, finding solace in the repetitive action. On a deep level, Dean had hoped for Draco to punish him for refusing to kill. Instead once they had landed, Draco had pulled back, giving him control again.

"Dean?" Nancy's voice barely penetrated the darkness surrounding him. "Babe, I'm going to wash your hands, okay?"

His gaze focused on the blood, which was beginning to dry a deep brownish red, almost black. Water splashed over his hands and Dean realized his feet were in the hot tub. He stared as the red swirled into the clear water, contaminating the tub as it spread, tiny red eddies around his shaking legs.

"I'll call maintenance to clean this up," Nancy whispered as she washed the gore away. He should feel better with Nancy taking care of him and being so sweet, but it made it all worse. Dean knew she wanted a family, that she was depending on him to show her how a father should be, but how could they? If Draco or Nu-Kua suspected their child of traitorous activities...

Shivers wracked his frame, quickly escalating into full-scale shudders. Nancy's hands rubbed his upper arms, encouraging him to stand. "Come on, Babe," she whispered. "Come with me." When he didn't move to stand Nancy spoke again. "Now, Dean. Don't make me mad."

Mad. No. Nancy couldn't be angry with him, not again. He stood slowly, stumbling as he stepped out of the hot tub, but Nancy caught him. Dean leaned heavily on her as they walked inside the penthouse. He sat on the bed while she removed his soaking wet boots. Without saying a word, Nance insisted he stand so she could remove his jeans. When he wore nothing but his boxers, she motioned to the bed. Though he couldn't deserve the luxury of the soft mattress and fine sheets, Dean dropped down feeling weary to the bone. Nancy crawled up to lie beside him, taking his head and resting it on her chest.

He still shivered, despite the warm covers and Nancy. She whispered in his ear, her voice warm and sweet though his brain refused to process the words. No matter how close he held her, Dean just couldn't get warm.

* * *

Bobby had been making calls for hours while Sam stared at the glowing computer screen. The male dragon's name brought up no hits, but the female's did. She was famous in Chinese mythology, even credited in some circles with creating humans. Sam figured if any of that crap was true, this dragon was just named after the famous one.

He replayed the scene at Joe Black's house a hundred times over in his mind, slowing down at the crucial points. Dean had stopped and looked like he was arguing. That could only mean Dean knew what was going to happen and didn't want it to.

_Dad's an ass! You don't lay that kind of crap on your kids!_

Dean's voice rang in his memory. He had been so drunk, Sam had wondered if he had dreamed it, until Dean admitted to renewing the promise to Sam. Sam still doubted Dean would do it, even though he needed that safety net, needed to know...

Sam's eyes widened at the dark screen of his laptop. He had been sitting there thinking for so long it had gone into hibernation mode.

"I know what to do," he whispered at the dull screen.

Bobby growled from across the room where he dropped his ancient cell on the bed. It was so heavy it bounced. "All I got was an exorcism that's supposed to work after it's outta Dean's body, for all the good it'll do us." Bobby's eyes narrowed on him. "Sam? You find sumthin?"

Sam's gaze locked with Bobby's. "I know what to do."

Bobby's eyes widened dramatically. "So? You gonna share with the rest of the class?"

"Do you remember what the dragon said when he threw us out?" Sam asked slowly as the pieces fell into place in his mind.

Bobby rubbed just behind his ear. "Uh, the part about promisin' Dean not to hurt us? What about it?"

"All we have to do is make the dragon break its promise," Sam informed Bobby, ignoring the look of shock on the older hunter's face. "Dean will do the rest."

"Sam," Bobby said with a sigh as his hands planted firmly on his hips, "Joe Black said that old dragon is fillin' a need Dean has. Maybe we should figure out what it is first."

Sam shook his head, snapping his laptop closed. "No. It doesn't matter. If the dragon tries to hurt us, it'll be breaking its promise to Dean." Sam stood. "Trust me, Bobby. I know my brother. That's all it should take to turn them against each other. If Dean can fight him, he will."

"But in the meantime, we could get ourselves killed?" Bobby growled. "This is not a plan, Sam. It's a suicide mission."

Sam shrugged. If he went down to a dragon, he wouldn't have to worry about the demon's plans for him. If Dean saved them, then his big brother would again have his back. Technically, it was a win-win situation. He wondered if there were some way to blame the yellow-eyed demon for this mess, so if he died Dean would be sure to continue to hunt it.

"You don't have to come," Sam informed him. "I'm pretty sure they're staying in New York. If my dragon research is anything to go by, they'll be in the penthouse of some ritzy hotel. All I have to do is find them."

"And how exactly do you plan on doing that?" Bobby demanded as Sam started packing.

Honestly, Sam hadn't thought that far ahead. "I'll think of something."

* * *

Nu-Kua moved restlessly under Nancy's skin. _Beloved_, she called to her mate, _what happened?_

_Humans are odd_, Draconêdismosreplied slowly. _Even after all this time, all the vessels I have taken, I never realized how odd they could be._

_Explain_, Nu-Kua demanded. Nancy had been panicked to discover Dean in that state. He was larger than life in her eyes, a hero of epic proportions. To find him shaking with fear and unresponsive had frightened her more than seeing her mother had. Nancy's residual panic still infected Nu-Kua as the dragon darted about, unable to find a comfortable position.

She could feel her mate roaming through Dean's body, also seeking comfort which could not be found.

_Dean felt no qualms when disposing of the traitors, until this one. It was the fact __Namiazas was once our son._

Nu-Kua wished Nancy were awake so she would have a head to shake. _Why would this make a difference?_

_I do not know, but it did._ Draconêdismos sighed heavily. _Perhaps the fact his brother was there..._

_Beloved! _Nu-Kua exclaimed. _You allowed a witness? He is dead._

_No,_ her mate replied without the remorse he should have shown, _it would have broken our agreement._

_Ah, the agreement which led to your bonding. _Nu-Kua wished to shake her entire body, hear the clink of her scales and the scraping of her mighty tail against the earth. _Must you always be so difficult?_

_It is part of my charm, _he replied.

She laughed lightly to herself. _I like you bonded with this human. But what are we to do about him? We can not have him like this._

_He has only seen our greatest failure. Perhaps if Dean met our greatest success?_

Nu-Kua considered it. It was a brilliant suggestion. _Yes,_ she replied. _I shall call her now._

Once their favorite and first hatchling had been called, Nu-Kua settled just under Nancy's skin where she would be aware instantly if Dean woke. _It is done, _she told her mate. _She should arrive soon._

* * *

"Okay, dragons like the finer things in life, right?" Sam asked as he held up fifty copies of Dean and the girl. "So we flash these around in the ritzy places and see who recognizes them."

Bobby ground his teeth together. "Not real subtle, Sam. They'll know we're coming."

"Yeah. Exactly." Sam's head bobbed, his brown hair flying all around.

"Exactly what?" Bobby demanded.

"They'll know we're coming," Sam tossed his words back. "Then the dragons will try to kill us and Dean'll have to stop them."

The kid stood there spewing nonsense as calmly as if he were talking about a research trip to the library. Those eyes though, they had the exact same look John Winchester used to get when he had some hair-brained idea. Couldn't ever convince John he was wrong either.

"I still think we need to find out who the girl is." Bobby decided to try a different tact this time, maybe divert Sam from his path of self-destruction long enough to find a real solution. The Korean priest still owed him a phone call.

"Oh, I think I did," Sam said in an off-hand manner.

Bobby imagined shaking Sam so hard all of the information fell out of his head in small neat piles. It would probably be color-coded and cross-referenced, not to mention perfectly filed.

"Well?" Bobby demanded when Sam didn't offer more information right away.

"Huh? Oh." Sam ran a hand through his hair, temporarily displacing it from his face. He brought out a yellow legal pad. "Here. Patricia Ann Hopkins. Daughter of the Reverend and Missus Hopkins. Been missing since..." He consulted the pad. "Age sixteen. Run-away."

Bobby took the pad from Sam. "Got a number for the parents? Maybe we c'n call 'em."

"I tried. There's no answer." Sam shrugged, dropping the pad.

Bobby picked up the pad. There were two phone numbers, one for the house and another for the church. "You tried both numbers?"

Sam nodded, still packing his things. Bobby picked up his cell and tried the church first, figuring at least a volunteer might answer. It rang and rang, not even an answering machine to pick up. Odd. So he tried the second number. It was picked up on the fifth ring.

"H-hello?" a voice strained with grief answered.

Bobby had a bad feeling. "Yes, ma'am. I was trying to contact the Reverend Hopkins or his wife, it concerns their daughter."

"Daughter?" There was a sniffle. "You don't mean Patti? Oh, dear."

"Ma'am?" Bobby caught Sam's eye. "Is there a problem?"

Sam paused in his packing to listen.

"Well, it was terrible. The church." The woman took a deep breath.

"What happened at the church?" Bobby asked, using his eyes to signal Sam. With a quick nod, Sam whipped out his laptop.

"There was a fire," she breathed, clearly upset and on the verge of losing it.

"Are you family?" he asked as gently as he could.

"Oh, uh, no." Another deep breath. "Just a close friend. None of the family lives close by. Doreen and I are...were..." Her voice cracked with grief.

Bobby was pretty sure he wouldn't be getting anything useful out of her. "I'm sorry to have bothered you, ma'am. I'll let you go."

"No, wait!" the woman practically shouted. "Please, you were calling about Patti? Do you know where she is? If she's all right?"

"Maybe," Bobby hedged.

Sam's face soured as his shaggy hair shook from side to side. Bobby walked over to spin Sam's laptop around where he could read it. There was a news article about the church and all the buildings surrounding it completely demolished by fire. The reverend and possibly his wife were thought to have been inside when it went up.

"Ma'am? Do you have any idea why Patti left home?" Bobby asked as he paged through pictures of the fire.

"No, no, none at all," the woman replied quickly. "They were wonderful parents. Patti was a clumsy kid, always walking into things and falling down, but really, they were wonderful parents. Especially the reverend. He doted on that child, was always buying her things. Some of the other parishioners thought he spoiled her, but she never acted like it."

"Always walking into things and falling down, huh?" Bobby shot Sam a strong look. "Let me guess. She was a real quiet kid too, right? Always kept to herself. Didn't have many friends, if any. Didn't like people to touch her?"

"Uh, yes, that's right. Patti was a little odd that way. So you do know where she is?"

"Yep." Bobby hung up on the stupid woman. People like her were the reason child abuse went unreported. He sighed as he met Sam's worried gaze. "Looks like she was abused. I guess Dean decided to take care of it."

Sam's eyes hardened. "That doesn't sound like what that thing who destroyed his own son would do. Dean's in there, Bobby. All we have to do is show him the way out."

Bobby wished he could share Sam's conviction. Right now, he'd give his right arm just to see confirmation Dean was still in there.

* * *

A relentless yet soft knocking sound woke Nancy. Dean's body pinned her to the bed. She wanted to call out for the intruder to leave, but that might wake Dean. He looked so exhausted, Nancy wanted him to sleep. It was difficult, but she managed to slip out from underneath him. He stirred in his sleep as she made for the door, but then his movements stilled. Relieved, Nancy hurried for the door.

The knocking continued as she reached for the door knob. Nancy hesitated. Dean didn't like her to open the door when he was not there, but Nu-Kua was insistent. Nancy frowned to herself as she snagged her dark sunglasses from a small table by the door. Pulling the door open, she revealed an older woman standing there. The older woman also wore dark glasses indoors, wide 80s style things, and frumpy librarian clothes.

Nancy scented the air, the woman smelled of lavender, books and _family_. She threw the door open as Nu-Kua squirmed with excitement. "Come in."

The woman smiled as she stepped inside, her movements careful and timid. "You called?" she asked hopefully.

Nu-Kua pushed to the front and Nancy released control. "Betlinda?" the dragon demanded.

The older woman, who looked more like a grandmother obsessed with baked goods than a dragon, beamed at them. "Mother?"

The older woman, Betlinda, fell into her arms and hugged Nancy so tight she had trouble breathing. When she gasped for breath, she heard potentially the worst sound she could at that moment.

"Hey!" Dean's voice boomed through the room. He stood in the bedroom doorway in a robe, his eyes glowing a dangerous color of red Nancy had come to associate with people dying. Violently.

Betlinda's body jerked in her arms. Her mouth froze open and her limbs were stiff.

"Dean, no!" Nancy surged up to regain control of her body. She held a hand up to stop him. "Don't!"

"Father!" Betlinda shouted as her body was released from Dean's hold and his expression changed from anger to horror.

Nancy could have laughed at the image of the grandmotherly woman rushing to hug him. His arms awkwardly came around Betlinda to pat her gently on the back as his red eyes sought out Nancy for an explanation.

"Fa-ther," Betlinda groaned as she leaned back to remove her sunglasses. "Don't you know me?" Bold deep red eyes with a single bright starburst of gold color in the right eye blazed out of the elderly kind face.

Recognition flickered over Dean's features before a shattered expression replaced it. He stumbled backward into the doorframe. Betlinda shot Nancy a questioning look.

"He fears you are here because of Namiazas," Nu-Kua surged up again to explain.

Betlinda's human face soured. "The traitor?" she spat venomously. Her eyes locked on Dean. "Father, please tell me you finally took care of him. After what he did..." her voice took on a dragon's growl.

"Ssshhhhh..." Dean's fingertips stroked her cheek as his voice dropped into Draco's deep rumbling tone. "The brightest star in my sky."

The face full of soft, puffy wrinkles smiled up at Dean as Betlinda leaned against his bare chest. Nancy could pinpoint the moment Dean took over, because those adoring eyes turned on her, full of questions.

"Family is important," he said softly.

Nancy smiled at him and nodded, hearing Nu-Kua echo the sentiments. Dean changed into fresh clothes before joining them in the sitting area. He was charming and humorous and his smile was fixed in place, but there was something still off. Although Dean seemed to be enjoying meeting and visiting with Draco and Nu-Kua's first hatchling, Draco's favorite child, Nancy felt a wrongness.

_Quiet child_, Nu-Kua chided her gently, _Dean understands now. See how he accepts Betlinda?_

Nancy did not respond because she knew what the problem was as her gaze rested on that forced smile. Dean wasn't buying it.


	26. Chapter 26: Family Matters

_**Chapter 26 – Family Matters**_

The first stop on Nidhug's list was a pair of male dragons who lived in Manhattan. They were very influential in the human entertainment world, producers of big budget summer blockbusters with gorgeous special effects, mega explosions, and very little else.

The human guard who answered the door smiled at Nidhug at his mention of _Draconêdismos Vermithrax and Nu-Kua_, much like a dog will grin at a new chew toy, or a piece of juicy meat. Nidhug was surprised at how calm he sounded, almost bored. His hands didn't shake, either. It was as if his host body was already resigned to the fact that violent agonizing death was imminent, and there was no need for him to worry about that anymore.

He could only hope that it would be quick. He rather doubted it, but he could always hope.

The guard stood a full head taller than Nidhug, and he was probably warded against psychic attack. That left physical, and the way Nidhug's luck was running, the man was probably warded against that too. Nidhug stood there on the doorstep of the townhouse, the hustle and bustle of normal New York at his back, none the wiser that dragons really did exist, oblivious to what was living in the midst of them.

Nidhug readied himself. Snapping this human's neck might not work, but he was still going to try.

The guard stood there for a moment, and his brown eyes flashed vivid green. Nidhug knew the look. That eye flash happened whenever he choose to communicate with his own human followers, back in the day.

He tried not to think about them.

The guard visibly relaxed. That alert, hungry look on his face faded out in a snap, as he schooled his sharp features into a polite smile. He kept his hand on the door handle, pulled the door open even wider, and gave a slight bow in Nidhug's direction.

"Ah, the Silverstones will see you in a few minutes, _sir_."

_Sir? _Nidhug raised an eyebrow. He walked into the house, past the human, and that space right between his shoulder blades itched. Treachery among his kind certainly was not uncommon, but that wasn't the feeling that he was getting. Something had happened. Something had changed.

He was shown to the parlor area, offered a seat, which he took, and a glass of champagne, which he declined, although he was feeling thirsty and nervous and could have used the drink.

The Silverstones showed up a few moments later. They were average height, red-headed, with bright blue serpent eyes. They might have been twin brothers, but Nidhug knew better. Two males together, acting as a mated pair, and that was not uncommon in his world, either, even though such a union did not result in a brood of chicks.

They bowed to him. Nidhug sat there frozen, as he heard them speak, heard them say that they had long awaited the triumphant return of the Great Dragon Who Darkens The Sky, and as the duly appointed representative of _Draconêdismos Vermithrax and Nu-Kua _they and all their resources were at Nidhug's disposal.

Nidhug sat there stunned. It was one of the few times in his life when he was rendered absolutely speechless.

* * *

They stared at him, and he stared right back. When he opened his mouth the other two dragons froze, attentive, ready to hang onto his every word. What came out of his mouth was nothing earth shattering. What he said was this: "I think I'll have that glass of champagne now."

It was easy to lie. Betlinda seemed nice enough. Besides, she was family now, so Dean smiled and responded in all the right ways. His smile reached his eyes; he was genuinely warm, and affectionate. He hugged Betlinda with all the affection that he would have ordinarily reserved for family or close friends.

At one point she stood up, took Dean's right hand in hers and kneeled, with her forehead against Dean's hand.

_Father_, Betlinda whispered adoringly. _I honor you and your vessel…_

Nancy and Nu-Kua smiled, just a little.

Dean's eyes widened. _I don't like this_, he thought shakily.

_I know,_ Draco said soothingly. _She is showing us respect. If you reject it, you reject her._

_I don't…I don't want to do that._

_I know. Relax, Dean. Relax and accept the gesture._

It seemed to go on for hours, but it was actually only a moment or two. Dean was actually relieved when Betlinda rose and sat back down on the couch with Nancy.

Dean listened attentively to tales of her childhood, nodded gravely in agreement as Betlinda told of her relief about Namiazas' death. Namiazas refused to fight alongside his parents. He turned and left when they and the rest of his family were under siege by the other dragons, penned in by containment sigils. He didn't take an active side against them, but he abandoned his family just the same.

Draco held off his attackers long enough for his children to escape. Nu-Kua fled into Hell.

Dean heard all that, and it moved him to anger, it really did, and yet and still all he could think about was the fact that Namiazas was Draco's son.

And, by extension, _his_ son.

Nu-Kua wasn't even aware that Dean was faking. He wasn't that sure about Nancy. He saw the way she looked at him. If she knew or suspected, she kept it to herself.

Dean's skin vibrated with the rumble of Draco's purr, and that purr continued even as Betlinda rose to take her leave four hours later. She hugged Dean once more, and he insisted on walking her out to her car.

Nu-Kua was _very_ pleased by that.

Once out on the street Dean hugged Betlinda one more time. The car was a late model Silver Cloud Rolls Royce. Dean stood there on the sidewalk and quietly scanned both the car and the driver.

The car was heavily warded, with protection symbols covering every square inch underneath that expensive light golden paint job. Even the windshield and the tires were hardened against supernatural and conventional hazards alike. The driver was tall, massive, dressed in a white shirt, black business suit and tie.

Dean took his sunglasses off. His eyes flared red as he stared at the man. In response, the chauffeur removed his own dark sunglasses.

He was brown-eyed, human, and warded as well. Dean sensed a fully loaded semi-automatic pistol in his side holster. Special rounds, consecrated iron, salt and silver. And that was just for starters. There were two specially modified sawed off shotguns underneath the driver's side seat. Dude was tricked out with three more guns, well hidden, amulets, silver knives, and some heavy duty mojo bags, the kind even John Winchester had only heard about and noted in his journal.

Dean nodded at Black Suit. The man's eyes flared ruby red as Dean and Draco's voices echoed inside his head. _Take care of my child._

_Or else _was unspoken, but understood. The man in the black suit nodded silently, and Dean nodded back.

Dean stepped away, and the Rolls pulled into traffic. Betlinda turned around in the rear window, smiling and waving, and Dean smiled and waved back. Draco purred like a contented cat, and Dean relaxed, just a little. Maybe he'd gotten away with it. Just maybe…

_Dean? _Draco rumbled, almost lazily. _We have to talk._

_

* * *

__Damn. _

Four hours and six dragons later, and he wasn't dead yet.

Huh.

What were the odds? Nidhug was finding it all very hard to believe.

What happened at the Silverstones was repeated over and over again. They bowed to Nidhug, they pledged their allegiance and their resources to be in "joyful service" to Draconêdismos Vermithrax and Nu-Kua.

At the end of it, Nidhug stood staring blankly at carpet in the elevator as it swept upwards towards the penthouse. The list was finished. Done. He stared at the expensive carpet, idly following the textures with his eyes. It was a habit he had whenever he was confused about something. It helped to settle him down.

Draco and his human had killedNamiazas. The traitor. His own flesh and blood. The "proper authorities" were saying that this "Joe Black" had been killed in a gas line explosion, which accounted for his grotesque injuries.

Nidhug and every dragon out there knew better.

When the elevator opened up on the penthouse floor Nidhug sat down quietly in the chair next to the flower arrangement on the table. Nidhug had already "called ahead." Draco instructed him to sit out in the hall until he returned.

Nidhug did so gladly.

If the old dragon had no qualms about ripping the heart out of his own flesh and blood, then Nidhug had no wish to enrage Draco further.

This part of Central Park was quiet and peaceful this time of day. Dean faded in on an old stone bridge, quiet and peaceful, with overhanging green trees above, a deserted runner's pathway below. There was no need to conceal his eyes here; there was no one around.

_Here it comes,_ Dean thought. He stopped in the middle of the bridge, leaned against the rough grey stones and waited for whatever pain Draco choose to inflict on him.

_I did not explain to you beforehand, _the dragon said calmly_. About the traitor. I should have. _

There was no violence, no anger, no heat in Draco's voice. He seemed genuinely puzzled by Dean's reaction. He wanted Dean to share and care.

Dean blinked. This…this was it?

_I want to understand. I need to._

Dean was careful not to roll his eyes. They were having a chick flick moment?

_He…he was your son,_ Dean thought flatly. _I understand now._

Draco chuckled. _You can fool Nu-Kua, little one, but I am not fooled so easily. Nor is Nancy, I think. You were polite. You sat and listened to my daughter, Betlinda. You were uncomfortable, but you did not disrespect her, or dishonor me. I appreciate that, a__nguigena. Now you must explain to me why your father did not discipline your younger sibling. Why he let the boy defy his wishes, and live._

_Dad,_ Dean said slowly. _Dad wouldn't have hurt Sam. No matter what Sam did, or said._

The vision rose up all around Dean, then: the cabin they holed up in, out in the middle of nowhere. John standing so close to Dean he could see the dark and light swirls of yellow in John's possessed eyes.

"You fight and fight for this family, but the truth is, they don't need you like you need them."

Dean jerked forward, against the railing. _Did you do…did you do that? _

_No. _

_Do you need to feed, like before?_

_No. You brought that memory to the surface. I did nothing. Well?_

_I don't…Damn._ He never had been any good with words. That much hadn't changed. Dean shook his head. _I'll fight for this family. You know I will. With my last breath, but…_ His voice trailed off.

_But?_ Draco prodded gently.

_But…he was your son. As much as my dad and my brother fought, no matter what, they would never hurt each other. They wouldn't…_

_Are you sure about that, Dean?_

_What?_

_Wasn't that one of your fears?_

_I don't know what you're ---_

_That your father and brother would argue when you weren't around? _

Dean could see it. Towards the end, before Sam left for Stanford, the fights had gotten ridiculous. Fights about the kind of motel rooms they stayed in, the food they ate every day. God, his shoulders got tight and ached whenever he saw Sam's bitchface. Dad's expression of deceptive calm would be right behind. Sam thrust his chin out, balled his fist as though he wanted to strike John, and lately John looked like he was two seconds away from giving Sam exactly what he wanted.

_That they would kill each other while you were out of the house? Towards the end you were tired, worn down from being the peacekeeper. You left sometimes. To make time for yourself. To get some air. A drink, to calm your nerves. And while you were gone you always thought of this._

_Dean put his hand on the doorknob, and the hairs on the back of his neck stood straight up. It was too quiet. _

_Always thought about what you would see when you came back. _

_Dean smelled blood._

_Blood on the floor. Blood all over._

Dean leaned into the stone railing. His knees shook, and he was seconds away from losing it. He couldn't breathe, couldn't see anything but _that_.

_Dad and Sam dead on the floor, staring sightlessly up at him, eyes glazed forever, the same question in each pair of dead, glassy eyes: Why weren't you here, Dean…_

_Why didn't you stop this?_

_Breathe, Dean, breathe…_

_I stayed…I stayed with Dad because I loved him. I didn't fear him…Neither did Sam._

_Did your brother love your father?_

_Yes…_

_Are you sure?_

_YES! Why are you asking me this? What the hell does it matter anyway?_

_I want to know why killing my son bothered you so much. He was a traitor to his family…_

"He was your son!" Dean raged out loud. His face was wet somehow, and he couldn't remember how he got on his knees. "I could have talked to him. We could have punished him. We didn't have to kill him."

_Dean. Listen to me now. _

The air around Dean darkened. He knew it was crazy, knew that it couldn't be, but it seemed that Draco was outside Dean's body now. Dean could feel the smooth bronze scales as they pressed against his skin. Draco's wings unfurled slightly, provided shade and cover from the sun above.

_Your father was weak. _

Dean shook his head as Draco embraced him and pulled him close. "No," Dean said aloud. "Dad wasn't weak. He wasn't…"

_He would have made a weak dragon, _Draco thought firmly. That long neck curved down and around. Draco's sleek head turned to face him. Dean stared into those ruby red eyes and he couldn't look away.

_You were the loyal son. You deserved his attention, but instead your rebellious brother usurped your rightful place from you. Those are the ways of a human family, and you're far more than that now. I am sorry this caused you pain, but you must learn to release those ways, child, because they no longer suit you. You were too good for your family. They did not appreciate your commitment, or your loyalty. They did not understand it, and they did not understand you. I've seen the way your brother Samuel looked at you. He thought of you as reckless. Foolish. In our culture older siblings are also revered, especially if the eldest is as talented and courageous as you are. _

Draco breathed, and Dean breathed. Dean couldn't tell where the dragon ended and he began.

Dean realized he didn't care anymore.

_Never doubt that I will continue to honor our agreement. I will not harm your brother or your friend. But make no mistake, Dean. If I had to do it all over again, I would have killed Namiazas with my bare hands a thousand times over. It is our way. As you said before, family before everything. You have family now, family that will not desert you, will not leave you. Ever. Embrace the ways of your new family now, child. _

He was tired. So tired. Maybe it _was_ time to give it up. Maybe it was time to stop hanging onto some half-assed notion of humanity. The normal rules just didn't apply anymore, not to him, and not to Nancy.

Dean nearly gasped aloud as he felt renewed energy flood through his body, washing away the coldness, the fatigue that gripped his muscles. That kink right between his shoulder blades immediately relaxed. It was the one place in his body that always tensed up first. He felt warm. Powerful. His muscles vibrated with it.

It was all so clear now. He'd been a fool to fight any of this. Namiazas was a friggin' traitor, pure and simple. Family, Dean's new family, came first, always and forever. They'd never leave him. Never.

He would make the world burn in order to keep them safe.

_You weaken us when you have doubts, my child. We are stronger together, as a family. _

Dean nodded. Draco smiled, and Dean smiled back.

_My a__nguigena_, Draco purred, and Dean preened beneath his attention._ You will never regret this._


	27. Chapter 27: Tight Bonds

Chapter 27: **Tight Bonds**

Dean walked briskly down the New York sidewalk enjoying the sun on his face and how light his shoulders and feet felt. He doubted he had ever felt quite like this before. Sure he could pop into their room at the hotel, or right outside the building, but he felt like walking. The repetitive rhythm and stretching of his muscles felt right. Draco sat right beneath his skin, a warm comforting weight pressing all over. The dragon's purr had been steady since they came to their understanding in the park, the vibrations causing Dean to feel just a bit heady, like he'd had one glass of champagne too many.

They heard a noise which did not belong. Curious, Dean sought it out. Using his mind, he discovered several men had a woman cornered in a dead-end alley about a block up on the right. It was pretty clear the assholes were after a little more than her purse.

_Hurry if you wish to stop it_, Draco urged, alarm in his voice.

Dean broke into a run, darting across the busy street and causing a flurry of honking horns and shouted profanities. One driver missed seeing the man running in front of him, never even hitting his brakes.

_Too bad_, Dean thought with a sneer. _Dude used to have a nice ride, too_. The front end was crushed in where it had dared touch him, crumpled like paper. He reached out with his mind to give the guy a nasty right-cross while he was at it. Asshole needed to learn where the brake pedal was.

_They are beginning_, Draco told him.

"Shit," Dean hissed through clenched teeth. He bolted from the street towards the alley, rounding the corner with the subtly of a freight train. Not slowing, Dean plowed directly into the first guy he saw. That guy slammed into the man next to him, so two were on the ground even if they weren't down. Yet.

Dean sprang to his feet, placing himself between the assholes and the woman. He glanced back quickly to check on her. She was on her hands and knees, her dress split in the back from the bottom up to expose her bare ass. Jesus! When she lifted her head, black streaks of mascara ran down her cheeks from her tears and her choked sobs were doing something to him.

Specifically: pissing him off.

His head snapped around so he could focus on the assholes. This nameless woman could be Nancy, Dean realized. Before they met horrible things had happened to her, things which had been out of her control. Horrible things like this.

He felt Draco turn his eyes back to normal so he could remove his shades. Neither of them wanted to give these assholes any warning. Dean slid his shades so they hung from the first buttoned button of his shirt. He would probably ruin this suit too. Hopefully Nancy wouldn't be too upset. It was new.

Dean pursed his lips to make a kissy-face at the two guys he hadn't knocked over. One growled, literally, before taking a swing. Dean ducked the punch, his reactions automatic from years of training and field work. The next blow he blocked. The third one, Dean blocked and returned, sending the dude slamming into the alley wall.

One down.

Next dude tried to charge him. Mistake. If a frigging car couldn't do it...

Blood poured from the dude's head wound as he laid on the ground.

Two down.

The two he had knocked down on his arrival exchanged a glance before approaching him together, their shoulders touching.

"Aw," Dean mocked. "Ain't you sweet?"

Their movements were coordinated, born of years working together. It was odd to watch the two men attacking him, landing blows they shouldn't have been able to. There was wrongness about them as they moved as one, even better than him and Sam.

Better than him and Sam? No way. It wasn't possible. Even Dad had said he'd never seen better teamwork, despite Sam's constant bitching and moaning.

_Dean_, Draco hissed. _I do not believe these are fully human._

Dean attempted to step back, give himself space to assess the enemy, but again they charged. Fed up, he held up a hand to toss them aside, but received a sucker punch to his jaw instead. What the hell?

Anger rising, Dean thrust out with his foot, catching one of them in the knee. When he went down, Dean threw a punch at the other one who stumbled back a step. The dude was still on his feet. Without hesitation, Dean laid into him. He could feel the second dude standing up behind him. With a grin, Dean snapped his elbow back, catching the second dude in the solar plexis. He grabbed the second dude, who was doubled over, and threw him into his partner.

The exit now clear, Dean grabbed the sobbing woman who cowered against the wall watching. He propelled her out of the alley by her arms. Once they stepped on to the sidewalk, Dean realized her shredded dress might attract some attention. He put his shades back on and shrugged out of his designer shirt so he could tie the arms around her waist and use the shirt to cover the back of her dress. The hotel was just ahead and across the street.

As they crossed the street Dean could feel the two guys regrouping already. What were they? Maybe Nidhug had not been able to talk to everyone on the list.

_They do not feel like dragons_, Draco told him. _You have had no issues handling other dragons_.

That was a good point. First he wanted the woman safely out of the way, then he could investigate the assholes. The doorman gave them an odd look as he opened the door. Dean hustled her inside, to relative safety.

"Hey!" he shouted at the helpful dude in the funny uniform. The helpful dude, same guy who set up Nancy's surprise, rushed over. "This lady needs something to wear. And I want my shirt back."

"Right away, Mister Spiel-" Dean frowned at the helpful dude. "Uh, I mean, Sir."

Using cover names was starting to leave a bad taste in his mouth. Dean had enough legitimate names to go by these days, cover names seemed excessive trouble.

The helpful dude whipped off his own uniform jacket to replace Dean's shirt. Dean put his shirt back on while the man led the now sniffling woman away. Buttoning his shirt, Dean stepped closer to the front windows. The two assholes stood across the street, watching and waiting.

_Not dragons?_ Dean asked. He hated to leave them standing, but without knowing exactly what they were, there was a good chance he couldn't kill them.

_They could be regular demons_, Draco suggested.

Dean grinned. _Now that I can work with. They'll keep for now, until I'm ready for 'em._

_As you wish, my little one, _Draco replied, resuming his earlier purr.

"Sir?" One of the other hotel employees approached. "Is there anything else? Should the police be called?"

"No," Dean replied, still staring at the potential demons. "But if those two come in and ask about me, tell them I'm staying in the other half of the penthouse. Got it?"

"Yes, sir," he replied eagerly.

"And be sure that woman makes it home safely," Dean ordered.

_Not bad, huh?_ Dean asked as they waited for the elevator.

_The fight with the ice demon was more impressive_, Draco replied. Was there an undercurrent of teasing there?

_Funny_, he snapped. _Real funny. I thought it might be a good idea not to destroy an entire city block._

_Getting soft_. There was a dragonish giggle as Dean stepped inside the elevator.

Dean rolled his eyes once the doors were closed. "Real glad you're enjoying yourself."

_What are we going to do about them?_ Draco asked. _They could still pose a threat._

"Send 'em back," Dean replied with a devilish grin. "But we might have a little talk with 'em first."

His tat pulsed with Draco's anticipation and Dean shook his head over it. The old dragon was acting like a little kid. When the doors opened, Dean saw Nidhug sitting in the elevator lobby by the flower pot.

_I forgot about this asshole_, Dean mumbled darkly.

_This order of business should not take long_, Draco assured him. _Then we may spend the rest of the day with our mate._

_Promise?_

_Of course._

Dean nodded at Nidhug's side of the penthouse floor. The sniveling dragon rushed to open the door for him. Dean barely glanced at his servant as he passed. He leaned against the back of the sofa and motioned for his report.

Nidhug dropped to one knee, his head bowed. Dean watched curiously, not quite sure what to make of it.

"All the dragons on the list offer themselves to your glorious service, sire," Nidhug reported.

_Too easy_, Dean grumbled. "No resistance?" he demanded.

"None, sire." Nidhug's head lifted and his serpent eyes locked on Dean. "I suspect they heard what happened with the traitor."

_He means your son_, Dean thought.

_Yes. There were other potential benefits to disposing of such a traitor._ Draco's voice was strong and unwavering.

Dean nodded once. "Good. A couple of demons may be paying you a visit soon. We'll need to set up a trap for them." He turned and removed his shades to look up. Flaming lines appeared, burning the demon-trapping sigil into the ceiling. "I assume you're just riding someone?"

Nidhug nodded slowly when Dean looked at him.

"Then you'll want to stay out from under that," Dean jerked his thumb over his shoulder. "Let me know when they've been trapped, I want to talk to them. If you do a good job, I'll let you leave before I exorcise 'em."

Nidhug's head dropped again. "Yes, sire. Sire?"

Dean paused before leaving. "Now what?"

Nidhug tugged nervously at his collar before speaking again. "Sire, I was wondering about... About my former followers, your new servants. What am I to do with them?"

Dean glanced around. The place was empty. "Have any shown up?"

"Yes, sire," Nidhug replied. "I have told them to await further orders. Most have no place to stay in the city."

"They can stay here." Dean swept an arm to indicate this half of the floor. "Maybe you can use a couple of 'em to help trap the demons."

"Yes, sire. Thank you," Nidhug replied quickly, his head bobbing in acquiescence.

"Is that all?" Dean demanded. "You're certain?"

"Yes, sire," Nidhug repeated, his voice raising an octave.

Dean rolled his eyes. _Wimp_.

Draco chuckled within him. _You should have known him as a dragon. He was worse._

"Hard to believe," Dean muttered, hooking his shades to hang from his shirt. At least up here on the penthouse floor they did not have to worry about being spotted. Dean had plans to 'influence' the humans working here anyway. Within a couple of weeks he figured on not needing the shades while anywhere in the hotel, not even around the paying guests. It was going to be nice having a base of operations that would pay for itself.

He headed back over to their half of the floor. Then again, why were they sharing the floor with servants?

_Better acces_s, Draco informed him. _You don't want to have to wait long on a mere servant_.

Yeah. That made sense. Dean scanned their room as he opened the door. Nancy was in the sitting area.

"It's me!" he called out.

"Finally!" Nancy came rushing towards him. "What took so long? Did Betlinda want to talk to you alone?" She gasped and slowed her steps when she saw him. "Dean?"

He smiled at her. "Don't worry, it had nothing to do with Betlinda."

A soft hand reached for his cheek and turned his head so Nancy could take a good look at his face. "Oh, Dean. What happened? No, wait, come with me to the bathroom so I can clean you up. You can tell me while I'm working."

Confused, Dean followed her into the expansive bathroom. Considering the lavishness of this place, he kept expecting to find a solid gold toilet.

_If dragons had used them, I would have owned one in my day_, Draco bragged.

_I'll bet._ Dean chuckled before catching sight of himself in the mirror. Those two guys across the street managed to inflict a little more damage than he thought. There was a gash just to the side of his right eye with a long smear of blood down that side of his face. Dark red patches blossomed on his cheeks and neck, the promise of future bruises.

_Those will be gone by morning_, the old dragon promised. _There are many benefits to this life_.

"Talk," Nancy demanded as she wet a washcloth.

"We went for a walk in the park," Dean explained. "To, uh, clear my head." He noticed the flicker of doubt on Nancy's face, but she nodded for him to continue. "Anyway, I decided to walk back, since it's such a nice day, and we found this woman being attacked in the alley, right down the street."

"So?" Nancy's attention was focused on cleaning his face and cut.

"So we stopped it." Dean slid his hands up her thighs to hold her waist as he grinned at her, the adrenaline high still pumping through him.

Nancy frowned but did not shake him off. "How many?"

"Four." Dean shrugged and tugged her a little closer.

Nancy concentrated on his cut now, making him wince as she applied alcohol. "Just four? How could four humans manage this?"

She was worried. About him. Oh, yeah, this life had more perks than he could count. Dean forcibly pressed her against his chest as he grinned. "Why? Worried?"

She relaxed into his embrace. "You know I am. Now let go so I can put a bandage on that."

He released Nancy so she could apply the butterfly bandages. "Now tell me how humans did this to you."

"How worried?" Dean asked with a smile, tilting his head to one side.

Nancy laughed at him and shook her head as she slapped his shoulder. Hopefully he would be able to evade this question until after he and Draco took care of the demons. Nancy shouldn't worry about little things like demons, those were Dean's job.

* * *

"I can't believe I'm saying this, but we need a dragon detector," Sam declared after huffing in frustration.

Bobby rolled his eyes at the young hunter. "You said all we needed to do was flash these flyers around and we'd find Dean in no time."

"I know." Sam leaned against the outer wall of a building to watch the mass of people passing them by. "But I wasn't really thinking of just how many people there are in New York. Or the fact they really don't give a damn." He held up a flyer to a passing group. One man had the audacity to grab it, ball it up and throw it back at him.

"See?"

"Okay, I might have an idea," Bobby replied. "Let's go. There's an old friend of mine who lives outside the city who knows a thing or two about ancient charms. And I'm talking ancient."

"How ancient?" Sam demanded as he hurried to keep up.

"There was a whole written language in use before humans learned to write," Bobby replied. "That's his area of expertise."

"Whoa," Sam breathed. "Do you think I could get a copy of whatever enchantment he decides to use?"

Bobby shot him a nasty glare.

"What?" Sam replied defensively. "So do you think dragons developed the first written language?"

"That's what I – we are banking on." Bobby sighed as he tried to flag down a cab. "I shoulda made you bring the car."

"Into New York City? Are you crazy?" Sam demanded. "If I get so much as a scratch on that car, I'll never hear the end of it. Dean'll kill me."

Bobby gave him an amused look as a cab pulled up. "I thought that was the plan?"

Sam grunted noncommittally as he slid in next to Bobby in the cab. Bobby handed the driver a card with the address of where they left the Impala.

"New plan?" Bobby asked, one hand gripping the door tightly as the driver spun the cab into oncoming traffic.

Sam shook his head stubbornly. "It'll work. We just need to find them." The cab rocked back and forth violently as they cut diagonally through a traffic intersection. "Assuming we live that long."

Their driver babbled something in a language Sam didn't even recognize.

"I hope he reads addresses," Bobby whispered.

Sam just wished the man knew how to drive.

* * *

Three hours later Bobby stood in front of a gorgeous colonial two story home with little colorful flowers lining the walk to the front door and he was immensely grateful to be here. He waited until Sam was only one step behind him before heading for the door. Sam had a cleaner appearance than he did, and Bobby had never met this guy face-to-face.

The front door had a knocker, some huge brass thing kept to a brilliant shine, and a doorbell. Bobby hesitated only a moment before pounding on the door itself with his fist. If had known Jerry was some kind of snob...

He could hear movement from behind the door for quite a while before it finally opened. A plump woman wearing overalls and a plaid shirt stepped out the door, pulling it closed behind her. "Yes? Can I help you?" Her voice was low and gruff, like a chain-smoker. There was a hint of silver in her blond hair, just enough to give it a nice shine.

"Uh, yes, ma'am," Sam spoke up from behind him. "We were told we could find someone by the name of Jerry here. Can we see him?"

The woman scowled at Sam. "Him? Son, I'm Jeri. What the hell do you want?" She stood with authority, hands on her hips, glaring over how stupid they were.

Oh, thank you, God. She was his kind of woman.

"Bobby Singer," he managed to say through his dry mouth.

The scowl disappeared, replaced by a bright smile. "Singer? In person?" She strode up to him with an outstretched hand. "I never thought we'd meet in person. Pleasure."

Bobby grasped her hand, pleased he felt calluses and not soft skin. "Pleasure." He stood there stupidly shaking her hand until Sam bumped him in the back.

"So. What brings you here?" Jeri asked. "Surely you don't need anything from me for a hunt?"

"Actually, we do." Bobby found his voice again. "And we're really banking on you being able to help us. Have you heard about the killer in the city leaving dragon symbols on his victims?"

She sighed heavily as she headed back into the house. "Maybe you need to come on in. I have a feeling you can use a beer. I know I need one."

Truly a woman after his own heart.


	28. The Weakest Link In the Chain

_**Chapter 28 – The Weakest Link In The Chain**_

"Ah, Beloved? Draco said softly.

Nu-Kua didn't answer at first. Then, coldly: "Yes?"

Draco knew that tone. Stern. Imperial. He tried not to draw in on himself. Apparently he did, a little. The tat across Dean's back and shoulders tightened up, just as Nancy carefully cleaned the blood off Dean's face with a wet washcloth.

_Dude? What?_

_Nothing. Sorry._

Nancy kept Dean occupied, and for that Draco was grateful. He watched as the human woman fussed over his vessel, applied bandages, demanded answers. She wanted to know the why and the how of it. Nancy frowned, and she was clearly displeased, but her anger wouldn't equal a tenth of Nu-Kua's fury.

And Nu-Kua was angry now. Draco could feel it. Her anger rippled over him, filled the tight spaces between his scales. He hunkered down underneath Dean's skin like a submissive kit. "We have…_I have_…displeased you."

"You have. Explain yourself."

"There was a human woman in distress. She was under attack. We came to her aid."

Nu-Kua's golden eyes went to slits. "You mean, Dean did."

"Ah, _we _did."

"Did you know this woman?"

"No."

"Did Dean know her?"

"No." Draco shivered.

Nu-Kua tilted her massive black head towards her mate. "So…am I to understand that you allowed your _anguigena_ to fight several assailants for this…this unknown human woman?" The great black dragon's eyes flashed angrily. "A woman that neither one of you knew, a woman who is not even a part of our family?"

"Yes."

"And you never tried to _stop_ him? Never tried to rein him in, to keep him in check?"

"No," Draco said slowly.

"You do not think there is anything _wrong_ with that?" Nu-Kua snarled.

Draco blinked. "Seeing her in distress like that…it bothered Dean. It bothered me. She reminded us of Nancy. How her life must have been before she became a part of us."

Nu-Kua scowled, clearly unconvinced. "I still do not understand…"

"It seemed like a good idea at the time." As soon as he formed the last thought Draco knew he had made a terrible, terrible mistake.

Nu-Kua would rake him with her claws. Draco was sure of it. He could already feel her rage burning against his skin, and he would endure all that and more, gladly. The Great Dragon Who Darkens The Sky, reduced to a mewling kit by the one being in the entire world he would allow to treat him thus.

What she did next frightened him even more.

She did nothing.

Nu-Kua leaned forward. She nuzzled against him. "I worry about you, my beloved. You understand that, don't you?"

"You needn't worry."

"But I do. We have a good life. It can only get better from now on. What you did today was foolish. Unnecessary."

"I know. I'm sorry." Draco untensed, relaxed against her with a heavy sigh. "It will not happen again. Although…"

"Although _what_?"

"It felt good to take action like that."

Draco's eyes were closed, so he did not see her frown. The expression lasted for a split second, and then Nu-Kua sighed and leaned into him. She relaxed every muscle in her body, not wanting to worry Draco, but she was becoming more and more concerned.

* * *

After she applied the last butterfly bandage Nancy decided that Dean was wearing too many clothes.

At least, that was her story.

Dean _loved_ this part.

"Are you hurt anywhere else?" Nancy frowned. "Let me see if you are."

Dean stripped down to those black boxer briefs of his. Slowly. Just the way he knew she liked it.

"You ruined another suit, Dean." Nancy shook her head, rolled her eyes. "Am I going to have to put a baby tether on you or something? What am I gonna do with you?"

Dean started smirking. He had several ideas. And yeah, they could use that tether for what he had in mind, too.

Draco snorted.

_Dude, grow up. What are you, four?_

The old dragon snorted again.

Dean tried his best to look contrite. It was an epic fail, and he knew it. Nancy tried not to smile. She tried so hard to look stern, as she ran her fingers over his well-muscled shoulders. She ran her fingers across his broad back, over the outline of Draco's tat. Dean shuddered, from head to toe.

Of course one thing led to another and somehow they ended up naked in the steam shower, soaping each other down with that expensive lavender soap that Nancy and Nu-Kua loved so much.

That meant all the first aid Nancy had done earlier had come undone, but she didn't mind.

Neither did Dean. Her mouth tasted like fresh cherries and he couldn't get enough of it. Draco purred, and so did Dean. Apparently Nu-Kua had similar ideas. They were all on the same page, and it was like nothing Dean had ever felt before in his life.

Dean couldn't really remember how they made it to the bedroom, but they must have. Black egyptian cotton sheets of the highest quality, that luxurious pillow-top mattress and all the comforts of home. He could almost forget those rock hard motel mattresses he had to endure on the road.

'S nice.

"Didn't mean to worry you," Dean muttered sleepily, later.

Nancy mumbled something as she snuggled up against him, the palm of her hand pressing against the union tat on Dean's shoulder.

"Huh?"

"I said, you'd better watch yourself in the future, Captain Macho," Nancy murmured.

"Why?"

"I'll hurt you myself if you get hurt like that again."

Dean's smirk was softened by sleep. He pulled her even closer. "Really? Gonna hurt me bad? Or good?"

Nancy chuckled. "Pervert."

"For you, babe, always." Dean mumbled. His breathing evened out and in another second or so he was sound asleep.

_Nancy?_ Nu-Kua purred softly._ I must speak to you. There is a problem with Dean._

_

* * *

_Cholas grinned as he settled down in the easy chair. Ah yes. This body suited him well. Been a long time since he found this perfect a fit. He let the cushions envelop his vessel's body, stretched like a cat, then relaxed. "Feisty old dragon, wasn't he?"

Liet grunted as he stared at himself in the hallway mirror. "Damn it! I just got this body." He cocked his head to one side, stared at the large dent in his bald head. He poked at the dent with his fingers. He never was any good at healing, like some of the others were.

"Ah, stop your bitching," Muth came in from the kitchen with a plate piled high with sandwiches. Naturally the greedy bastard didn't offer any to anyone else. He threw himself on the leather couch and put his boots on that modern, expensive glass coffee table. "You let him knock you down. You and Wanek had the easy part. Me and Cholas had to fight the bastard."

Muth picked up one of the sandwiches, thick slabs of roast beef between two pieces of rye bread. He bit off half. "He was pretty good, too." Muth added as he chewed noisily.

He remembered the days when they hid in dark alleys and ate anything that came along. Cats. Rats. The occasional homeless person. This? This was the life. Penthouse apartment, plenty of food, and plenty of meatsuits around if he had to jump out of the flesh he was currently wearing.

Cholas rolled his eyes. "That was the vessel, not the dragon. Talented meatsuit. That much checks out." He frowned. "By the way. Where's your better half?"

Liet snorted. "Wanek? He's prowling around that hotel the dragon and his kid went into. Maybe he'll get himself killed and we can keep his share of the bounty."

"Uh, he's your brother, right?" Cholas looked puzzled.

"So what? I never liked him."

"Oh."

The woman Dean and Draco rescued came out of the bathroom dressed only in a thick yellow bathrobe. It was like everything else in the apartment: extremely expensive. Her blue eyes went straight to black as she towel dried her hair with a thick burgundy towel. She ignored the dark purplish hand prints on her neck and chest.

"Feet off the table," she snapped. Muth didn't move fast enough so she slapped him upside the head. "Feet. _Now_."

"Told you it would work," Muth mumbled though a mouthful of bread and meat. "We just had to get close enough to bait the trap." He slid over on the couch so she could sit down.

The woman frowned at him. "No, jackass, I told _you _it would work." She leaned over and scrubbed at her short brown hair with the towel. "The old wurm's vessel is the key. Must be a really tight bond between him and Draco for the old boy to allow his pet to risk himself like that. That attraction spell worked like a charm."

The grin on her face was sharp and predatory as she straightened up, leaned back against the couch with the towel draped around her shoulders. "If we could compel him to come to us like that, setting another trap for him will be easy. That dampening spell I put on ol' Deano while he was playing hero in the alley worked, too."

The woman rolled her eyes as Liet kept poking the dent in his head. "Will you stop doing that?"

Liet huffed. "Didn't work all that well. He still hurt me."

"Oh boo hoo." She snorted, raised her arms out to her sides. "Got a city full of meat out here, and you're complaining?"

Cholas snorted. "And what are we gonna do about that bitch mate of his?" He held his right hand up, wriggled his fingers. "She chewed me up pretty good when we were down in hell together. "I'd like to return the favor."

The woman laughed. "I can handle her. You can have a little playtime with her before we turn them in. Told John boy what his eldest was up to just before I left Hell. Don't think he believed me. 'Course, he was too busy screaming his lungs out, so I don't think he heard me." The woman sat back against the couch, crossed her legs. "The way Dean went after his bitch's abusive Daddy and Mommy Dearest was classic. That's what gave me the idea for this. We collect the wurms and their humans, turn them in for the bounty, and we've got the sweet life up here for all eternity." She scowled suddenly. "As long as you boys don't get all macho stupid on me and screw this up somehow."

Liet actually looked offended. "Now, why you wanna say _that_? You think we wanna go back to hell? I like it up here. Lots of meatsuits. "

"Okay. So long as we understand one another," she said gruffly. "Who's in charge?"

There was a collective eye roll. "You are."

"I am, _what_?"

No one rolled their eyes this time, because they all knew that if they did it would just prolong the agony. "You are, mistress."

She nodded. "Better. I don't want anything to screw this up, understand? This is personal. I had a pretty sweet life before Dean Winchester sent me back to Hell. Wanna make his life topside a living hell before I'm done." She blinked at Muth. It was obvious something was on that tiny mind of his. "What?"

"Which one of your names to do want us to call you by?"

The woman smirked. "I've always been partial to Meg."

* * *

The sitting room was inside Nancy and Nu-Kua's headspace now. The room was vast, to accommodate Nu-Kua's massive frame. The sky overhead was dark and cloudy. It reflected Nu-Kua's foul mood. She paced back and forth, her wings furled tightly against her back.

Nu-Kua looked up at the sky overhead. "I have shielded us. As far as Dean and Draco know, we are asleep, and nothing we say can be heard."

Nancy sat there on the couch, her shoulders slightly slumped. She stared at her hands, twisted her fingers slightly in her lap. Nu-Kua was on a roll now. Even though the questions really didn't require an answer, Nancy nodded and shrugged anyway, during the conversational pauses. She had no idea why Dean and Draco would willingly put themselves at risk. Before this Nancy would have been secure in the knowledge that the old dragon would have stopped Dean from such a foolish course of action. Apparently not.

There was a wrongness there. She couldn't put her finger on it, couldn't identify it, but it was there.

"Why would they expose themselves like that? For a human female? There was no need for this. No need at all," Nu-Kua snarled. Her tail lashed back and forth. "You saw the damage they took. The bruises. And for what? Some human female who is not even a part of our family." Nu-Kua shook her head. "It was a trap. They used Dean's love for you. Draco is too blinded by the bond they share to stop him. My mate has the instincts of a child sometimes. That is why I told you, Nancy, that males need to be controlled. "

"I still don't understand why Draco allowed Dean to do this."

The dragon's features softened slightly as she eased her massive body down next to Nancy. "Draco said that the woman reminded them of you. Reminded them both of the abuse you took."

"But, why?"

"It is as I told you. The problem is with Dean. He was a hunter in that other life. He saved people. He cares so very much for you, Nancy. He does. There was the time my Draco would not have bothered to intercede on behalf of anyone who was not owned by or related to us. That sounds harsh, I know, but it is the truth. Draco and Dean have the closest bonding now of any human and dragon I have ever seen. I have never seen the like. And apparently, someone else has figured this out. Someone else plans to use their closeness against us." She took a deep breath, and then murmured, "Dean is the weak link. We have to do something about him."

Nancy's eyes narrowed dangerously. That might have provoked Nu-Kua, but Nancy didn't care. "Are you suggesting getting rid of Dean?"

"No. No, of course not!" Nu-Kua's eyes widened a little. "I like him, Nancy. I really do. He is a perfect fit for Draco. And besides, it is not my wish to make either you or my Beloved unhappy."

The dragon shrugged. "There are ways to help Dean in this matter. Ways to make him temper his emotions, make it impossible for anyone to influence him like this."

Nancy smiled grimly as she leaned forward. "Tell me."

* * *

Draco drifted, half asleep. It had been an eventful day. He could hear Nu-Kua purr, and it soothed him. Dean and Nancy were asleep in each others arms. Life was good.

This part of Dean's headspace was filled with cars. Draco curled himself around a sleek black car that Dean had referred to as his "baby." It must have been a cherished possession, for Dean's voice was filled with warmth and affection when he spoke of it. There were other vehicles around, and ordinarily Draco would not have been attracted to any of them, much less this one.

He didn't know why he was attracted to this vehicle. Didn't know why, but it didn't bother him.

Draco lay on top of the roof of the car, blinking slowly. Deep sleep was not far behind. He stared out at the headspace beyond, and he caught sight of that dark cube in Dean's headspace, the only thing in this headspace that hurt him that time.

He loved the boy, so he allowed it. He allowed Dean much, let his vessel take liberties that he had never allowed any other vessel to take.

Perhaps Nu-Kua was right about today. Perhaps he should have stopped Dean from rescuing that woman. They had a good life now. Good, and it could only get better. He could take a firmer hand with Dean.

He should.

After all, Dean was his. He belonged to Draco, now and forever.

The sky overhead was bright and sunny in Dean's dream. The human stirred sleepily as Draco inserted himself into the dream. They were on a hillside, and down in the valley below was a beautiful two story house. That big black car, Dean's "baby", sat in the driveway next to the house. The house sat in the overhang of a huge, majestic oak tree.

The scene was isolated and peaceful. Blue skies above, vast rolling green hillsides below.

"What…what is this?" the dragon stammered as he alighted on the grass. He folded his wings tight against his back. He held himself with an air of majestic dignity. Or at least, he tried to.

This was not what Draco expected.

Dean's dreams were usually filled with scantily clad human females, food stuffs such as pies, milkshakes, red meat and other delicious things to eat. Dean had quite an appetite.

Dean sometimes dreamed about this place called Gotham City. He wore a black mask and body armor in those dreams. "I'm Batman," Dean said once, proudly.

Draco just didn't understand.

This time Dean was dressed in faded blue jeans, a black t shirt, and leather sandals. He kneeled down, balanced easily on the soles of his feet. He smiled a little as he ran his fingers through the thick green grass at his feet.

Nancy came out on the front porch of the house wearing a beautiful emerald green caftan. Her dark hair was pulled back from her face in a ponytail. A tiny black and white striped kitten played on the porch swing.

Nancy scooped the kitten up and hugged it to her chest. She glanced up, and when she saw Dean her smile was warm and bright as she waved at him.

Dean waved back.

Nancy sat in the porch swing and cuddled with the kitten.

"Dean?" Draco rumbled. "What is this?"

"This?" Dean shrugged. "It's home."

"Home?"

"Yeah. " He knelt there, watched Nancy go back inside the house. "Never had one. Except when I was a kid. Before my mom…" Dean's voice trailed off. He tilted his head to one side and stared at the ground. "Maybe we can find a place like this."

"I thought you liked the hotel?"

Another careless shrug. "I do. Be nice to have a place in the country to get away to, though." Dean lifted his head. As he looked at the house the corners of his mouth tipped upwards in a quiet smile.

"We can have this, if you desire." Draco stretched his massive neck up and out. His nostrils flared as he breathed in the crisp, clean air. It smelled green. "We can have everything you desire…"

Dean's eyes narrowed. "I hear a 'but' coming on."

"But we cannot jeopardize our future by dwelling on the past."

Dean stared at the dragon.

"That woman today reminded you…reminded _us_…of Nancy. What we did was commendable, but Nancy is safe. Between the two of us, she will never be hurt again. We cannot take unnecessary chances. I was affected as well. We have to do something about this."

"Have to do something about _what_?"

"We must be mindful of the future. Remember I told you in the park that you have to release human ways because they no longer suit you?" Draco nodded at Nancy and the house down in the valley. "If this is what you wish, _anguigena_, you shall have it, and everything else in the world that you desire. But there is a price."

Dean grew still, quiet. He straightened up, dusted his palms off on the thighs of his jeans.

"I am talking about that cube in your headspace. You said that it contained good memories. Memories of a life that is over now, Dean. I should have insisted that you remove it. I did not. That was my mistake. My fault, but what affects you affects me as well. Nu-Kua and Nancy may be endangered by our situation." Draco shook his sleek, massive head. "I cannot allow this."

"Stop dancing around," Dean barked harshly. "You got something to say to me, then say it, damn it."

"Very well, then." Draco drew himself up to his full height. "I will give you the choice." He leaned forward, lowered his massive head so that he and Dean were nearly eye level. Dean glared at him defiantly. "Either you remove that cube, or _I _will."


	29. Chapter 29: Conflict of Interest

_**Chapter 29: Conflict of Interest**_

Sam tried hard not to watch the way Bobby had turned into a squishy sponge around this Jeri character. It was worse than watching him flirt with the woman at that motel, because this time it was clear that Bobby really had a thing for her.

"I don't suppose your research turned up anything about dragon society? Family relationships?" Sam pressed. He had to find a way of driving a wedge between Dean and the dragon, without getting himself and Bobby killed in the meantime.

Jeri chewed on a toothpick thoughtfully, her gaze distant and unfocused. "Maybe," she replied slowly. A stupid grin covered Bobby's face, causing Sam to slap him in the shoulder when Jeri wasn't paying attention. Bobby shot him a dirty look, which Sam happily returned.

"Working," Sam hissed the none-too-gentle reminder. He leaned closer to Bobby's ear as Jeri searched through one of her many bookshelves. "We're here about Dean, remember?"

"Here we are," Jeri announced as she turned around with a leather-bound journal in her hand. It looked an awful lot like Dad's. "I started doing translations of the ancient literature back in my twenties, before I realized it wasn't human." She shook her head, as if she couldn't believe she had ever been so naïve. "Their politics were every bit as nasty and back-stabbing as the worst royal family in human history. Children were killed for not being up to expectations."

Sam watched Bobby's eyes widen. "Somehow, I don't see Dean goin' along with _**that**_."

Sam had to nod in agreement.

"With what?" Jeri glanced up from her journal. "And who is Dean?"

"Friend of ours," Bobby explained quickly, before Sam had a chance to answer. "We're pretty sure he's being possessed by a dragon."

Jeri frowned as she slowly lowered her journal to her desk. "I don't suppose you have a name? For the dragon?" One hand waved over the yellowed pages. "I do have an extensive list."

Sam waited, Bobby seemed to be the lead on this one. Bobby gave him a quick nod, permission to spill it all, Sam figured. He pulled the pages with Dean's and the possessed girl's eyes and tats. "We have it on pretty good authority the dragons' names are Nu-Kua and _Draconêdismos Vermithrax."_

Jeri's soft face hardened with a deep frown. "What authority?" she demanded.

Sam glanced over at Bobby again, who was gazing at the dragon authority like a love-struck teen. Great. So much for Bobby taking the lead. "One of their children. Right before _Draconêdismos Vermithrax _killed him."

Her brows drew together in a tight line between her eyes. "Are we talking recently?"

"Two days ago," Sam replied as he nudged Bobby with his elbow. "Right?"

"Uh? Uh, yeah," Bobby said slowly with a stupid grin spreading on his face. "Gonna have to thank Dean for that one of these days."

Sam scrubbed a hand over his face. Good lord, could this possibly become any more embarrassing? Then his gaze shifted to Jeri, the supposed dragon expert. She had a dreamy expression on her face as she looked at Bobby. Okay, so it could be more embarrassing. Who knew?

* * *

Dean stared hard at the huge bronze dragon laying across the top of his Impala. This had to be one of those dreams where all of your worst fears came true. Any second now all of his clothes should disappear and that wrestling coach who doubled as a home ec teacher would walk up and demand Dean drop and do a hundred push-ups for his soufflé falling.

He waited. No coach. Still had all his clothes, too.

Not bad so far.

"Would you repeat that?" Dean asked, not bothering to sound polite.

The huge dragon head turned to snort at the black sphere floating behind him. "Get rid of that. Now."

He glanced at the sphere, watching it change into a razor-edged cube. Dean met Draco's hard glare with one of his own. Give up all of his memories of Dad and Sam? The good ones? Wind up stuck with nothing but the bad, just in case the dragon needs to go back to his old feeding habits? Yeah, right.

"Make me," Dean growled in response.

With a growl which echoed like thunder across the sky, the big dragon began to step down on to the Impala's hood.

"Scratch the paint and die," he threatened.

Huge wings slashed the air as Draco took flight, soaring in wide lazy circles around Dean until he reached the ground. Now why even a dragon would bother with the admittedly impressive display considering they were in his head was beyond Dean. The mighty gold tail wrapped around the car as steaming breath blew in his face, forcing him to close his eyes against the broiling hurricane force wind.

"Do you really believe I would harm such a priceless treasure?" Draco's deep timbre vibrated through Dean's chest.

"Sorry," Dean mumbled, realizing just how stupid that was. Like Draco would hurt his baby.

"Especially an Impala that runs like this one. Cherry," Draco continued.

Dean nodded in agreement. "Yeah, I know. I know." He held both hands up in surrender. "I already said I was sorry, didn't I?"

Draco snorted again, the hot humid air dampening his hair. "Like you meant it."

"Did you mean it about the cube?" Dean demanded.

"Cube?" Draco turned to look at it again. "Why does it change like that?"

Dean reached out to give the dragon a shove, right between the eyes. "Avoiding the subject?"

The great head lowered to the ground and the huge red serpent eyes blinked slowly at him. "No," he replied slowly.

Now Dean took his turn snorting at the dragon. "Yeah, right. So I'm supposed to be stuck with nothing but bad memories? We helped Nance get rid of her nasty-ass memories." Dean shuddered at the thought. "But I'm supposed to be stuck with mine?"

Draco blinked slowly again. "Why didn't you bottle up those? Why only the good stuff?"

Dean stuffed his hands in his pockets as he shrugged and stared down at his boots. He scuffed one toe along the ground, scratching gently along the dragon's jaw.

"For me?" Draco asked, his head lifting to hover just above the ground. "You kept the bad memories so I could feed, to protect your brother, didn't you?" The long bronze muzzle rubbed along Dean's side with a gentleness he would never have suspected. "And now you keep the others away, because you suspect they could harm us."

Draco sighed heavily. "Oh, my little one, your old family had no idea how fortunate they were in having you." The thin bronze scales were warm to the touch as Draco nuzzled his hand. Dean stroked the scales, soft and pliant under his palm. "Or in what they have lost."

Dean could not repress the smile on his face. "Or what I've gained," he admitted, glad for the privacy of being inside his head for this monstrous chick-flick moment.

"I won't tell," Draco promised with a broad smile, not that he had a choice with a mouth that big.

"Better not," Dean replied sternly. He laid down between those comforting red eyes, enjoying the warm scales on his back. "So now what? I'm guessing Nu-Kua has some problems with that." He waved at the floating black sphere, its surface perfectly blank and nonreflecting.

"She would if she knew about it," Draco replied, steam rising from his nostrils just beyond Dean's feet.

"What do we do?" Dean asked.

"We don't tell her," Draco said. "And we don't rush off to help strange women any more. Nu-Kua was extremely upset. If it happens again, she will cause both of us damage, Dean. I promise you. Especially if we are hurt."

"Wait a minute," Dean said as he patted a hand over one of Draco's eyes. "You mean, if we help out some poor chick again, and get hurt, she'll hurt us?"

"You cannot imagine how bad that would really be." The massive head nodded, tilting him back and forth. The action was not disturbing, it was as if Dean had always had a dragon to rest on and talk to.

Dean whistled, teeth biting into his lower lip. "No wonder you fell for her. Damn, she's somethin' else, huh?"

Draco's whole body rumbled with his chuckle. "Oh, my little one, I could tell you stories that would send you cowering under your bed. But first, are we in agreement? No more saving others, unless our mate or family is involved?"

Dean sighed as he rested his head back against the smooth scales and stroked his hands over the warm surface. "What if we just don't get caught?"

Another chuckle vibrated through Dean's back. "Little One, my _anguigena, _you should have been born a dragon. You do like to play with fire."

"Is that a yes?" Dean pressed with a grin.

Draco sighed heavily. "I have promised not to, Dean. I can not break my promise to my Beloved. But..." The great dragon's voice trailed off in uncertainty.

"But what?" Dean asked.

"It was...enjoyable."

* * *

"An emperor?" Sam demanded in utter disbelief. "Dean's being possessed by a dragon emperor? Are you sure?"

Jeri tucked a wayward silver curl behind one ear. "Pretty damned sure," she replied firmly, as if she dared Sam to challenge her again. "Don't know what it would've been doing hanging out in some hospital. Had to be slim pickin's in there."

"Unless..." Bobby's voice broke in the conversation slowly, hesitantly.

Sam and Jeri's attention shifted to him. "Unless what?" Sam asked, his face reflecting the fact he wouldn't like whatever Bobby had to say.

"Unless it was looking for just the right match," Bobby said as his heavy gaze met Sam's. "Someone strong, tough, self-reliant who has one hell of a weak spot when it comes to protecting his family. And where better to find family in dire trouble, than a hospital?" He scratched the thick stubble along his jaw. "Pretty damned sneaky, if you ask me."

Jeri nodded in agreement. "Now that does sound like a dragon emperor. So this friend of yours, is he like that?"

"Yeah," Sam breathed out, his lungs unwilling to work at the moment. So that meant this was his fault? Was he to blame? But he had been trying to help Dean, to find his big brother and keep them together, and safe. He hadn't left this time, how could it still be his fault? Then again, he had believed the doctors could help Dean more than he could. Now he could not believe how stupid he had been, not escaping with Dean when he had the chance.

"Dean's one of the finest men I've ever known," Bobby's deep voice rumbled. It took Sam a moment to process the words, the statement was so unexpected. When he had, his eyes snapped up to meet Bobby's, hard and sincere. Wow. Too bad Dean wasn't here to hear it.

"That's good," the older woman told them. "It means he has a chance." She picked up the pictures Sam had given her of the tattoos. "I've seen similar brandings on others, but never filled in like this. With possessions, or followers..."

"Followers!" Bobby snapped. "You gotta be kiddin'."

Jeri's head shook. "That friend you're always telling me about? The one who says he understands demons, but people are crazy? He's right." One finger tapped on the large tattoos covering their backs. "These are usually open, brands of ownership, like for cattle. A filled in one?" She shrugged. "I can only assume it means more. A lot more."

"Great," Bobby huffed as he glared down at the picture of Dean with those red serpent eyes.

* * *

Nancy waited for the punchline, but apparently dragons don't possess a sense of humor. At least, this one didn't.

"You want me to what?" she asked. Again. Still hoping she had misheard Nu-Kua.

The great black dragon, her ebony scales shimmering with a powerful iridescence despite the dark sky overhead, stopped pacing to glare at Nancy. "I believe you heard me."

Nancy twirled her hair between her fingers, an old nervous habit she had developed growing up. "I hope not," she replied slowly, "because I don't think I can do that."

Nu-Kua bellowed her displeasure at the dark sky as it churned with the dragon's frustration. After the far wall disintegrated, so much steaming rubble, large gold eyes focused on her. Nancy swallowed hard, ready to take her punishment. In some ways, Nu-Kua reminded her of Father, his intolerance of disobedience. She fully expected the mighty claws to sink into her flesh, or fire to burn her skin away. Instead she heard a snuffling sound.

Nancy opened her eyes slowly, only now fully aware of the fact she had had them closed. Great black wings stretched around her. With a tentative hand, Nancy touched one. It was soft like a well used leather sofa, and warm. The warmth surprised her, she had expected a dragon to be the same temperature as its environment, like a simple lizard. Instead heat radiated through the skin. The wings wrapped closer, cradling her in the protective warmth.

"We are bonded," Nu-Kua's voice echoed in her head and across the sky. "No harm shall come to you."

Relieved, Nancy relaxed into Nu-Kua's wing, allowing herself to be rocked into a state of safety and comfort, the way she always felt with Dean.

"What if it is not a lie?" Nu-Kua asked softly, her voice the merest breeze. "I am certain if you were with child, Dean would not rush off taking such foolish risks."

"Can't lie," Nancy mumbled as her eyes grew too heavy to hold up. "Dean wants it too much. Won't lie."

"Then we will not lie," Nu-Kua assured her in a melodious voice. "When you tell him, it will be the truth. But in the meantime, I shall lead him to believe it. Sleep now, child. I have much work to do." Nancy drifted off to the sound of the dragon's voice, unsure if she just agreed to something, and far too tired to worry about it.

* * *

"Nance? Come on, baby, wake up. Nance."

A male voice came from somewhere, but she didn't care. Nancy wanted to sleep until next week. She waved away the annoyance to settle into the warm covers, but clearly it was not meant to be. A heavy weight rested on top of her. Within moments, it was accompanied by sensual kisses down her neck and along her shoulder. Yeah, okay. Maybe she would wake up for that.

When she managed to pry her eyes open, she found Dean smiling down at her. The cut by his eye from last night was gone, as were all the bruises. She traced a finger along his temple, where the wound had been.

"Did I scare you, baby?" he asked in a sweet voice and Nancy felt herself caving. She knew she would let him do whatever he wanted when he sounded like this. Especially when they were lying in bed naked.

Nancy nodded slowly at him, her brain still in a fog. She remembered talking to Nu-Kua about Dean, but couldn't remember if they came to an agreement. And what had they discussed, anyway? It had something to do with Dean being too reckless, she knew that, but there had been more. There had been a plan.

"I'm sorry, baby," he said with his little-boy-grin. It made him look far more innocent than he was, and never ceased to make her smile.

She returned the smile. "So what's the plan for today? Any errands?"

Dean shook his head as his grin broadened. "I might have a couple of jobs for the bottom-feeder, but that's it. We can spend the whole day together."

She ran her hands over his head, the soft hair tickling between her fingers. "A quiet day?"

He chuckled at her, a deep sound that she felt more than heard. "Sure, Baby. Anything you want today."

"A picnic," Nancy insisted, surprised by her own request. "Out of the city. I want to go someplace where it's just the two of us." She wrapped her arms around his neck to pull him closer. "Just us," she repeated.

Dean chuckled again as the red faded from his eyes revealing a certain glint in his human green eyes. "I think that can be arranged. Tell you what. If you want, you can sleep in a little longer. I'll order some food from room service and give the bottom-feeder his orders. When everything is ready, I'll come get you." His fingers threaded through her hair. "Work for you?"

She smiled happily as she closed her eyes. "Mmm-hmmm."

She was left with a lingering kiss on her cheek. Dean seemed to be gone only a few moments when she heard Nu-Kua's voice. _It is going well, Nancy. Keep our mate safe. We are nearly ready._

Far too soon she felt Dean shaking her by the shoulder. "Come on, Baby," he encouraged her. "This was your idea."

"What?" Nancy asked groggily.

Dean pointed to a large picnic basket resting on the foot of the bed. "Ready?" He frowned at her. "Are you feeling all right? You're not getting sick, are you?"

Nancy shook her head as she pushed up to a sit, the luxurious black sheets falling away. "Oh. Right. Maybe I should dress."

Dean chuckled at her. "Don't do it on my account."

She rolled her eyes and slapped him playfully in the shoulder. He was once again in jeans and a shirt, but the jeans were new and the shirt was a designer dress shirt she had picked out the other day. He looked damned good in white, it set off his tanned skin.

"Bring me something to wear." She noticed the imperial tone in her voice, but Dean only smiled at her as he jumped off the bed. He disappeared into the closet for a few moments as she stretched and tried to shake the sleep from her brain. Dean reappeared holding a simple blue sun-dress.

"There," he said as it sailed through the air at her. "You don't even need underwear."

She rolled her eyes again. "Pervert," Nancy snapped as she pulled the dress on over her head.

"What? It's not like there will be any people where we're going."

"Where are we going?" But when she turned to face him, the whole room began to swirl. Oh, crap. When she said she wanted to leave the city, she had been thinking of a nice drive in the country. Clearly Dean was taking her request a little more literally. Nancy closed her eyes against it, and the nausea threatening. She swallowed hard against the bile rising in the back of her throat.

"Baby?" Warm hands rubbed her arms. "Hey, what's wrong? It never made you sick before."

It was true. Usually when they traveled like this, Nancy enjoyed it. It was like riding a tilt-a-whirl, only a thousand times better. Not today.

"Sorry," she managed to say as she swayed on her feet.

"Whoa. Here we go, sit down." Dean propelled her down to sit on a checkered blanket. She giggled at his classic picnic, complete with wicker basket.

"I'm okay," Nancy insisted. She felt better sitting down, without anything swaying or moving unnaturally around her.

Dean gave her a stern look as he settled on the blanket beside her. "I'm keeping an eye on you today," he announced. "I don't care if the bottom-feeder goes off and gets himself killed."

Nancy shook her head as she leaned against his shoulder. "He's a waste of oxygen anyway."

Dean drew her into his arms and nuzzled her neck. "I'm worried about you, baby," was whispered into her neck.

"Well," Nancy replied slowly, "now you know how it feels."

Dean sighed heavily as he pulled her back to rest against his chest. "I'm sorry. Honest." One hand slipped along her thigh, pushing up the thin sun-dress while warm lips suckled at her neck. "Let me make it up to you," he murmured into her skin.

Why couldn't she have found a dragon when she was, oh, twelve? Man, her life would've been so different! Not that she was complaining. No. Not right now. Definitely no complaints right now.


	30. Ch 30: The Hand That Rocks The Cradle

_**Chapter 30. The Hand That Rocks The Cradle**_

…_.raione neque __sed__ quia __eius…_

_Slowly, gently,_ Nu-Kua thought to herself, as she gave a slight nudge to Nancy's system. The great black dragon knew human physiology, had been around enough humans in her unnaturally long life. She had her favorite humans at her place out in the country, with the vast gardens of lavender. Some of them were mated couples.

…_volupem __adipisci__ sequi __mod__i… _

Nu-Kua studied them, and observed their ways, observed how protective and easily controlled the human males became when the females became pregnant. It was the same among her kind, and sometimes she wondered how two distinctly different species could be so similar. Nu-Kua observed the pregnant human females around her, insisted on being present at the births. Everything she had ever seen was filed away for future use.

_Can't lie. Dean wants it too much. Won't lie._

Nancy purred contentedly as Dean rocked into her with a gentle motion.

…_tempor__a nesciunt, porro quisquam est qui __aliqua__m quaerat…_

_It will not be a lie,_ Nu-Kua thought to herself. _Not after I am done. _

…_do__lorem ipsum__ quia __dolor sit amet consectetur, __v__elit __non numquam __incident… _

She settled herself, listened attentively.

_Mine,_ Nancy thought to herself. _He's all mine. Now and forever._

Nu-Kua smiled. She shivered a little, all over, rustled her wings. She had to remain apart while she attended to Nancy, but Nu-Kua could still feel pleasure, from a distance. The great black dragon closed her eyes, nearly swept away by passion, then she growled to herself, shook her head, and opened her eyes. She settled herself, resumed the incantation.

…_similique __sunt in culpa__, __qui officia deserunt mollit__ia __anim__i…_

Dean and Draco had no idea, but there had been extensive damage to Nancy's reproductive organs.

The honorable Reverend Hopkins had been very enthusiastic showing Nancy (then Patti) the proper way to show attention to him. He used his body.

And whatever else came to hand. "This is how little girls show Daddy their love. Does this feel good, Patti? Tell me you like this."

Nancy's bastard of an abusive father was dead, ashes, along with that unfit mother of hers, thanks to Dean and Draco. Nancy was glad about that. She hadn't wasted a tear on either parent since then.

Nu-Kua shrugged as she gently caressed Nancy's misshapen uterus.

…_ut labore et dolore magna__m voluptatem…_

The rips and tears healed. The tissue looked pink and healthy once again.

_Itaque earum rerum hic tenetur a sapiente delectus, ut aut reiciendis voluptatibus maiores._

Nu-Kua withdrew. She did not fully extend herself under Nancy's skin, and sure enough, neither Dean nor Draco noticed. She made sure of that.

Besides, she still had work to do.

Dean would pick up on Nancy's condition soon enough, probably even before Nancy told him. He was a hunter in his other life, after all, trained to pick up on subtle clues. Nu-Kua meant what she said when she told Nancy that she liked Dean. She did, very much.

But she would not allow Draco's green-eyed child to endanger them all.

There were other methods Nu-Kua could use, if this failed. Spells that she could employ, that would slowly strip Dean of his emotions, relieve him of any memories that he had of his past life. That was, as the humans were so fond of saying, Plan B.

For now, this would work. Nu-Kua was sure of it. Dean was fiercely protective of Nancy, and if Nancy were pregnant with his child?

Nu-Kua smiled grimly to herself. Not even the gods above and below would not be able to shield any attacker from Dean's wrath.

* * *

Going inside that hotel set Wanek's teeth on edge. He could sense _dragon_, smell _dragon_ all around him. It grated against his skin like razors. Wanek nearly lost control, had to force his eyes to remain hazel, and not black. He wanted to declare himself, wanted to attack the humans all around him. They were idiots, dull and thick-headed. They had to be, not to be able to sense what was right among them.

The humans behind the front desk glanced at him when he walked in. Muth and Cholas were right, then. They saw the Winchester human point them out to the desk clerk. It was a good thing, then, that Wanek and his brother Cholas hadn't shown themselves. Wanek walked around the lobby like a normal human, and then he walked out again without incident.

It wouldn't do to get himself killed. He knew his own brother prayed for that to happen, each and every day. He also knew that none of the others would shed one tear if he died, or was somehow banished back to hell. That was one reason he hated dragons. They knew the old magic, knew ancient ways of dealing with demons. The fact that this particular dragon's vessel was a hunter, well, that irritated Wanek even more.

There was so much meat in this place. Meat everywhere. He slipped his dark sunglasses on to shield his eyes. Wanek glanced back at the hotel and saw this one human male in a black business suit walk out of the building. It wasn't the old dragon, or Winchester. This one was slim, with slicked back black hair and a mustache.

Wanek stared. He could see the dragon coiling underneath its vessel's skin. It put on a good front, but this dragon was weak. Fearful. Its glory days were long since over and done. This one had the old dragon's scent all over him, and the human's. This one was owned by them, and Wanek couldn't help but smile. His eyes flashed pitch black for a second in the bright sunlight, then he walked slowly walked down the street a few yards behind the weakling.

His kind had picked up some new tricks, too.

They needed a way in, and what better way than inside one of the dragon's flunkies?

* * *

"Dad," Sammy purred. The kid had those puppy dog eyes out again, deep and soulful, and Dean could feel himself weakening. He shook his head, straightened up against the porch railing. "Your mom doesn't want me to teach you that stuff, not yet."

Sammy actually whimpered like a puppy, despite the fact that he was eight years old now. "But Dad, please? I wanna learn how to blow stuff up. You said you'd teach me just a little, if I was good. And for the past week, I've been good."

Draco chuckled inside Dean's head. _He's got you there, all right._

Dean scowled._ Whose side are you on, Grandpa?_

Draco shrugged.

"I wanna learn how to cast fire, like you do," Sam said simply.

"No way, dude. That's more than just a little." Dean huffed. "You're not ready for that yet."

There go the puppy eyes again. "You don't trust me."

_Steady,_ Dean told himself. "Didn't say that. Takes time to get as awesome as I am. You gotta crawl before you walk, young'un."

Draco made a soft sound of disapproval. _You could teach them something small. Harmless. _

Dean grunted. _You really want Nancy and Nu-Kua to get pissed off at us?_

_Uh, no. _

_Okay, then._

Six year old Mary tossed her headful of shining blonde curls. _Mommy wants to be here when we learn anyway, _she thought silently._ She's inside taking a nap._

Dean nodded._ That's right. And if we start without her, Mom's gonna get sad. _

_See? Hmph. _Mary rolled her eyes at her brothers. John stuck his tongue out at her. Sam did the same.

_Uh, Draco?  
__  
Yes, Dean?_

_We're dreaming, right?_

_Yes, we are. You were not certain of this?_

_Just checking. Is this a vision?_

_It is whatever you want it to be. The future will be shaped by your desire and intent._

_Geez, thanks a lot, Yoda. _Dean sat down on the porch swing and smiled at the three kids at his feet. _So Nu-Kua allowed me to name the little rug rats, huh?_

_She holds you in very high regard, Dean. Besides, they have their dragon names too. Or they will, in time._

"Dad," Sam said out loud. "You're not getting all mushy on us, are you?"

"Mushy?"

"Emo," Five year old John chirruped out loud.

"Huh?" Dean quirked an eyebrow at him.

"When you look at us like that I can tell you're getting all mushy," Sam said.

"Emo," John insisted. One day the scowl on his face would be quite intimidating. For now it was just gosh darn cute.

"That's 'cause I love you guys," Dean murmured softly.

"Yuck!" John's frown deepened and he shook his head.

"That's mushy," Sam pointed out. Dean felt an ache in his chest. It had been years since he'd seen Sam, but he knew he was safe. He was strong. He'd get over the deal Dean made. He would.

"Been waiting for you all my life." Dean couldn't believe he just said that out loud. It was out there. And it was true. Damn chick flick moment.

"Dude," Sam said warningly. "Beneath that hard macho outside of yours is a mushy center."

Draco snickered. _He knows you so well._

_Do you mind? Nothing worse than a meddling grandparent. _

_Technically, I am their father too, _Draco countered.

_Uh huh. And if Nu-Kua gets angry at us, she'll go after my ass first. _

Draco chuckled._ I am sure that if my Beloved did become upset with you, she would not harm you. Much. _

_Gee, thanks._

The dream shifted, changed, as the children got older.

John was still the youngest, tall for his age. Black haired, with deep brown eyes. Mary was suddenly a tall willowy teenager, sweet sixteen, and sure enough Sam had the same growth spurt that his namesake had. Sam Jr. was taller than Dean now.

It irritated the hell out of Dean.

And it made him so proud.

* * *

Dean was vaguely aware that he and Nancy were curled up together on the checkered blanket, somewhere out in the country. They were safe, shielded. Nancy snuggled in closer, her head on his chest.

She sighed contentedly but she didn't wake up.

Dean stopped moving as he came fully awake. He opened his eyes and lay there staring at her.

"_I'm worried about you, baby," Dean told her before. _

"_Well," Nancy replied slowly, "now you know how it feels."_

All this time, he'd acted as though he really didn't matter. That no one would mourn if he died, when he died, and she was proof that was wrong. Maybe he should change his ways, maybe it was time to turn over a new leaf. Because of her.

She was beautiful. She was perfect. And she loved him.

He didn't want to worry her. Didn't want to disappoint her. He'd had enough of that with John and Sam, even though they didn't mean it. At least Dean hoped they didn't. Putting Nancy through the same thing wasn't fair to her.

He could do better.

Dean wanted to.

* * *

Nidhug struggled up through layers of darkness. His head ached; his whole body throbbed. The ropes were tight against his wrists and ankles. He tasted blood in his mouth. One moment he was walking down the street in bright sunlight, and the next everything around him went pitch black.

He blinked several times at the woman who stood before him. She had short blonde hair, and her smile was bright and predatory.

"So you're Dean's bitch, huh?" the woman purred smoothly. "Huh. Never figured Winchester would be the type to even _have_ minions, but times change, I guess."

Nidhug glanced down at his body. Chair. He was sitting in a heavy wooden chair. Tied down to one, actually. The room was bare: dirty concrete painted with white symbols on the floors and ceiling.

There were four men behind the woman, but they weren't human. None of them were. The woman smiled as though she read his mind, and everyone's eyes turned black.

_Demons. No…_

"Y'see, this isn't personal." She sat on his lap, put her arm around Nidhug's shoulders like they were old friends. "Me and my friends have a bone to pick with Deano. And his dragon friend. Draco, isn't it? And that bitch Nu-Kua."

Nidhug's eyes widened. He couldn't help it. His heart began to thump against his ribcage, hard and fast.

The woman made a tsking noise. "Where are my manners? My name is Meg, by the way."

One of the men behind her laughed, low and vicious.

"It's okay," the blonde patted Nidhug's arm. "No hard feelings, huh? We're not gonna kill you. We're just…borrowing you for a while." She kissed the tip of Nidhug's nose and hopped off his lap.

One of the men came forward with something in his hand. It was a triangular shaped bronze medallion on a black leather cord. He smiled grimly at Nidhug as he stepped close. Nidhug's tie was already gone, his white shirt open down to his belt. He flinched as the cord was looped around his neck. And he groaned out loud as the medallion was pressed up against the bare skin of his chest.

It burned. Right down to his core. Nidhug pressed his lips together. He wouldn't scream. He wouldn't…

"I meant it when I said we're not gonna kill you," the blonde woman said. "Feels bad, doesn't it? It's just gonna hollow you out enough so that one of us can slip inside. It'll leave enough dragon to fool your friends. And if you wanna scream, feel free, by the way."

He was being erased from the inside out. So much pain, and this wasn't the way he ever thought it would end for him.

Life was funny like that.

Nidhug's back arched against the chair. He opened his mouth and began to scream.


	31. Chapter 31: Drawing Closer

Chapter 31: **Drawing Closer**

Dean stood in front of the bedroom mirror, checking his outfit out again. Nancy wanted to go out tonight and he was finding it damn near impossible to say no to her. There were some pressing matters which might require his attention, but he should be able to work around them.

He straightened his tie again, the black silk smooth against his callused fingertips. A diamond studded tie pin held it in place against the thin striped shirt. Height of fashion, Nancy had proclaimed when she bought it for him. Whatever. As long as she was happy. He was pretty sure there had been some type of threat associated with blood stains on it, but he couldn't remember the specifics.

"Hey, Nance," Dean called out. "We're not running late, are we?" He turned around to check how the new slacks looked in the back. Not bad. "Nancy?"

There was still no answer from the main room. Odd. Dean double-checked but Nancy was the only living thing in the penthouse other than him. He stepped out of the bedroom to find her slouched over on the couch, sound asleep. Smiling gently at the sight, Dean approached her.

"Baby?" Dean asked softly, dropping to one knee beside her. She didn't stir. He caressed the side of her face and she muttered something unintelligible. Dean shook his head before grabbing a blanket to pull over her. She relaxed into the soft sofa as he covered her. Well, maybe he could run a couple of errands while Nancy napped.

Out of curiosity, Dean wondered if he could scan his mate the same way he scanned the area around them. He leaned over her and closed his eyes, both hoping and dreading the answer he would find. Dean began with her chest. Everything there seemed healthy. He was no doctor, so mostly Dean was just guessing here, but nothing seemed ill or out of place. Shifting his focus slowly downward, Dean sensed the enormous build-up of energy the closer he came to Nancy's reproductive organs.

_Do not interrupt_, Draco advised. _Nu-Kua is busy_.

_Is... Is she...? _ Dean could not even finish the thought, his breath stuck painfully in his throat as his eyes flew open.

_It would seem our mate shares our desire for offspring_, Draco replied and Dean felt a rush of affectionate warmth spread throughout his body. _Soon, Dean. Very soon._

Dean's broad smile was almost painful, stretching his facial muscles to an extreme. He sat on the floor by her side, unwilling to leave even though he really needed to check on the bottom-feeder, and those demons.

_Now would be a good time_, Draco told him. _ Perhaps you can see how far you have influenced the humans here. A few may be ready._

_Helpful dude?_ Dean asked, tracing the side of her face with one fingertip.

_Good choice_, Draco agreed. _Call him, without the phone_.

Dean nodded, unable to tear his gaze from her face yet. He urged the helpful dude from the first floor to come to the penthouse. At first Dean had forbidden anyone on this floor except for housekeeping, occasionally. He might allow the helpful dude to stand guard outside, but inside?

_Dude, is there anyone Nu-Kua trusts we can call?_ Dean asked as he worried his lower lip with his front teeth. _I don't want them waking up with a stranger here_.

He felt his tat warm and tingle as Draco stretched under his skin. _Perhaps, but I will need to call_.

Dean waited while Draco called for reinforcements. It amazed him that Nance was still asleep, although he and Draco had made no noise to wake her. He could feel Nu-Kua's energy, a steady beacon, emanating from Nancy. Why hadn't he noticed it before? Then again, it wasn't like they were being harmed, so why would he have noticed?

_You may bring them_, Draco informed him.

Dean closed his eyes and followed Draco's directions. He found two humans eagerly awaiting to return to their mistress. Dean bent the space around them, bringing them to the outside ledge beside the hot tub. After stroking Nancy's cheek once more, Dean stood to inspect Nu-Kua's followers.

Two humans, their faces a little green and looking a bit wobbly on their feet, stood just outside the door. Dean glanced back to assure himself that Nancy was all right before stepping outside. He was about to address them when he realized the helpful dude was ready to ring their bell. Dean stilled his hand and spun him around to stand guard outside the door.

_I'll be with you in a moment_, he instructed the helpful dude. Dean felt helpful dude's pulse quicken and his body stiffen. _Stay_.

With the danger of waking his mate momentarily averted, Dean turned the knob to step outside the penthouse. He nodded seriously to the man and woman watching him. His head tilted to one side as he studied them. _Nu-Kua really trusts these losers?_

As if they understood his question, both of the humans pushed up their sleeves to reveal Nu-Kua's symbol.

_Clearly_, Draco grunted.

Dean pointed out Nancy sleeping on the sofa. "Our beloved is sleeping," he said in a hushed voice. They exchanged a confused look. "Dude, really?" He motioned to his glowing serpent's eyes. "This isn't good enough for you?"

The couple took a collective step backwards. "Our mistress does not tolerate disloyalty," the man replied in a hard voice.

_Show them_, Draco urged, his irritation flowing freely. _Show them we are also their master_.

"Fine," Dean hissed between clenched teeth. He removed his tie to stuff in his pants pocket. Then, instead of taking off his shirt completely, Dean simply pulled out the shoulder with his bonding symbol. The couple's eyes widened before they both bowed their heads in submission.

"That's better," Dean said with a nod as he buttoned his shirt. "If you wake her up for no reason, I'll bend you both into pretzels. Got it?"

Heads still bowed, they nodded in unison.

"Good. I want you two to keep an eye on our mate, make sure she has anything she wants. There's a dude at the front door who'll find whatever she needs. I'll be back in about an hour." Dean tucked his shirt back in. "And if anyone gets past the dude at the door, wake her. She can call me."

_Heads up!_ Dean snapped at them. Both lifted their heads, their eyes glowing red with his thoughts. _You protect her_.

Eyes still glowing, they nodded at him. Dean let Nu-Kua's followers into the penthouse. With a longing look at the sofa, he headed for the front door. In the hallway just outside he found the helpful dude.

The guy spun around, startled. "Sir?" he asked in a shaky voice. "Did you, uh, call me?"

Dean nodded, realizing only then he had forgotten his shades. The door to the penthouse swung open, apparently of its own accord. The sunglasses floated out before it closed again gently, without a sound. Dean held out his hand, where they dropped into his palm. He allowed his eyes to flare bright red before settling the sunglasses on his face.

"Watch this door for me," he instructed, noticing now how young the kid appeared. "If you do a good job, I'll keep you around."

The kid grinned, kind of hungry-like. "Yes, sir. Uh, sir? What do I... I mean, am I just supposed to call you sir, or what?"

"Dean," he replied with a shrug. "Or Draco. Just don't use Draco outside of the hotel."

"Yes, sir!" He actually seemed excited by the prospect. Dean rolled his eyes behind his shades as the elevator rose to collect him.

_He could be our top human here_, Draco said as they boarded the elevator.

_Maybe_, Dean replied, _we'll have to see if he can take orders_.

_Agreed_.

* * *

Draco curled up within Dean, feeling perfectly content to allow his vessel to handle things at the moment. Their mate was under the protective watch of several humans and they were in search of the bottom-feeder Nidhug. If Dean's scan of Nancy's body was correct, it meant that his beloved had been very busy of late. She appeared to be in perfect condition for impregnation. He admired Beloved's method of attempting to control them. It would work, of course. She could not know it, but even without offspring Dean had been feeling more possessive and protective of their mate and less likely to rush off to rescue a perfect stranger. With offspring?

A loud snort rumbled Dean's stomach.

_Dude, knock it off. Not around the help_, Dean chided him.

Draco chuckled at his little one. Oh, Dean really should have been born a dragon. If this one had been one of his offspring, Dean would have been his favorite. He would never admit this, especially to his beloved Nu-Kua, but none of their offspring had the fire this child of mere men possessed.

Then the images of the world around them, the faces of the people they passed on the street, ceased. Dean was no longer using their dragon eyes. Concerned, Draco rose up to peer through Dean's human eyes. What he saw made his great wings flutter and his scales clank in irritation.

Sam Winchester.

* * *

Sam stood perfectly still, staring at his brother staring at him. At least, he assumed the man standing six feet in front of him was his brother. The guy looked an awful lot like Dean, even had the same hairstyle. The clothes, however, were not. This guy wore some really expensive threads right out of G-Q. His hand, wearing Dean's silver ring, rose to slowly pull off the pricey sunglasses.

Dean's eyes, not red serpent eyes, bore into Sam and he felt something he had not felt in days: hope.

Sam took a slow step forward. "Dean?" he asked quietly, certain he would be heard even over the street noise.

Dean swallowed hard before shaking his head. "Don't Sam," he warned, his tone hard and unwavering as his eyes narrowed. "I did this to keep you safe. You gotta back off." He moved slowly backward, into the crowd. "Stay away, Sam!"

Sam rushed forward, but he was too slow. Dean had disappeared into the crowd, melting and blending into the mass of humanity known as New York City. Damn it! Sam slammed his fist against the wall. Forcing himself to calm, knowing losing his temper was the quickest way to screwing up, Sam took stock of his surroundings. There were two upscale hotels right here in this block. Maybe it was time to ask around a little.

* * *

How could the brother have found them so quickly? Draco had expected at least another month or so, which would have been plenty of time to fully embed his little one in their new lifestyle. Running into that one too early had the potential of spoiling his plans.

Dean stood in the middle of the park staring at the skyline, his nerves twanging wildly.

_He is well_, Draco soothed. _Unharmed_.

_He was right outside the frigging hotel_, Dean grumbled. _Sam's too damned smart. He'll find us in a day or two at the latest._

_It is of no consequence_, Draco assured him. _We are one. A mere human is unable to tear us asunder_.

_You don't know Sam. If there is a way, he'll figure it out_.

Dean's words were ominous, full of foreboding, but Draco shrugged them away. _Are we to keep our mate waiting?_

Dean shook his head, pulling himself together. "Bottomfeeder," he growled loudly and Draco felt a twinge of guilt for directing Dean's anxiety on to Nidhug. Well, not guilt exactly.

* * *

Sam held his cell to his ear waiting anxiously.

"Yeah?" Bobby answered gruffly.

"Bobby, I found him," Sam said excitedly. "From what I can tell, he's taken over the entire penthouse of this ritzy hotel."

"From what you c'n tell?" Bobby demanded. "Didn't you ask around?"

"Of course I did," Sam snapped. "The people who work in the hotel aren't talking, it's like they're all under some kind of mind control. However, the people in the hotel across the street have a lot to say."

"Like?" Bobby asked in the same demanding voice.

"Dean and that girl coming and going, wearing all kinds of expensive clothes, pretty much running the whole place like they're the new owners," Sam explained.

"Huh." Bobby went silent for a whole minute. "Guess maybe you found him. Now what?"

"Uh..." Sam sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Now I make the dragon want to kill me?"

"Hell of plan, Sam," Bobby groused. "Hell of a plan."

"I'll meet you at the room later," Sam promised. "For now, I'm going to hang out in the lobby."

"Playin' with fire there, boy," the older hunter warned.

"Yeah, I know. But what choice do I have?" The silence was his only answer. "Later, Bobby."

Sam picked up a copy of today's paper before choosing a comfortable chair in the lobby. At least once every fifteen minutes one of the employees tried to run him off, but Sam wasn't budging. It was high past time to put his plan in action. He hoped he would survive it.

* * *

Wanek shuddered inside the dragon-human meatsuit. It stank of dragon. Two millennia without a body of his own and he could still smell the stench. This meatsuit had been inhabited for so long it even thought like one of those scumbag dragons. He directed his new prize, which wasn't much of a prize in his opinion, to the hotel where his mistress' target lived. Once inside, he had his orders to wreak havoc until the target arrived. Then he and his brethren would secure the target and call their mistress. Simple.

If it were that simple, Wanek would eat his own eyeballs. Mistress tended to oversimply because she considered them stupid. He wasn't stupid, but he preferred others to do his hard thinking for him. The last time he had made a fantastic decision, he had landed in Hell for nearly five centuries. Wanek could learn from his mistakes.

This, for example. Hiding inside a dragon's meatsuit was a horrible mistake. Not only did it reek, but it made his essence writhe uncomfortably whenever he connected with flesh, which he had to do to control it. Why couldn't Mistress have chosen Liet? His idiot brother might enjoy this rotten meatsuit, he had always had the strangest tastes.

Wanek directed the meatsuit through the lobby, trying not to squirm too much and lose control. The humans who worked there did not spare him a second look, he was expected. There was a human in the lobby, tall with shaggy brown hair, who watched him intently. If Wanek did not know better, he would have sworn the human knew what he was, which was impossible. It was simply his nerves and the stink of this vessel getting the better of him.

The elevator rose slowly to the penthouse and Wanek hoped the target would be at home in his nest. Mistress claimed dragons took 'nesting' as a serious business. He hoped to see if it was true, if there was an actual nest there. The elegant doors opened to reveal a human standing outside the target door. There had been no warning of this.

The human's eyes flashed red for a moment before he lifted a hand. "Dean has been looking for you," he said sternly. One hand pointed to a spot against the far wall. "Wait there."

This one was all human and all vulnerable.

"Nah, don't think so," Wanek said, curling his vessel's mouth up in a mirthless grin. He lifted a hand and the boy's head snapped to the side, the sound of bones snapping like dry twigs. "Now, I wonder why you were out here? Guarding something important to ol' Dean?"

He rested a hand on the doorknob. Should he wait for Mistress? There he went, trying to think for himself again. That led to nothing but trouble. His orders were to secure the nest and the dragons if they were home. He twisted the knob gently, not wanting to alert anyone inside.


	32. Chapter 32: Rage Against The Machine

_**Chapter 32 Rage Against the Machine**_

_**CHOLAS!**_

Cholas flinched. A drop of blood trickled out of his meatsuit's right ear, ran down onto the collar of his black tee shirt. He froze in place, on his knees in the center of the warehouse. He was careful not to smudge the symbols he'd painted on the dirty concrete all around him.

_Yes, Mistress?_

_How far along are you with the trap?_

Cholas raised his head up. He glared at Liet, who was across the room painting similar sigils on the far wall. Liet didn't even react to the Mistress' voice. Neither did Muth over at the other wall, so Cholas was the only one being yelled at. Great.

_Uh, another twenty minutes and we'll be finished. We have the walls and the floor covered. Left part of the ceiling and the doors open for the trap doors. Once they enter, they won't be able to leave._

Meg sighed. _I suppose I should be grateful you got that much right, at least._

_Uh. Mistress?_

_Yes?_

_Does this mean I get Wanek's share of the bounty?_

Meg chuckled, amused. Maybe. If all goes well.

_

* * *

_There were three others inside the apartment, but Wanek was only supposed to keep one alive.

"Mistress!" the female human called out. "Mi---"

"Now, why you wanna go and do that for?" Wanek growled pleasantly. The woman stiffened as he reached out with his mind and gripped her body tight. Her head snapped all the way around to the back. The man died just as quickly, and even as Wanek released his hold and they dropped to the floor, he pulled the collar out of his suit pocket.

The dark haired woman lying on the couch stirred as he drew near. Her eyes fluttered. His skin prickled almost painfully with the energy she was giving off.

_I don't think so, bitch,_ Wanek thought darkly, and he slipped the collar around her neck.

As soon as the leather touched her skin she sank back down on the couch with a sigh.

_Better. Much better. _

The collar was deceptively simple looking. Most things of power are. It looked like a braid of pale white leather, with metal clasps at the ends. One would have to look really close to see the containment symbols etched into the leather. They were small, but powerful.

The female continued to sleep, even as Wanek stood over her, smiling. So this was what that bitch Nu-Kua called home these days? Not bad. Dean Winchester had excellent taste in women.

Wanek stared at the woman's slim build, at the long dark curly hair that spilled down her back. He was a leg man, and she had a pretty nice pair. Her breasts were nice and full.

Wanek could appreciate that too.

He traced his fingers over the union tat on her shoulder. The female's eyes flickered open, and Wanek held his breath.

Her normally golden eyes were filmed over with a glaze of icy whiteness.

Wanek grinned to himself. She stared upwards, blindly, and her lips moved. He couldn't make out what she was saying, and that was just as well. He had absolutely no interest in whatever Nu-Kua had to say.

Keeping her eyes open took too much energy, and she soon closed then again. Wanek could see the great black dragon coiled beneath her skin, could see Nu-Kua on the ground in the headspace, weak, white-eyed, unable to move.

He leaned down, put his lips to her ear. "Wakey, wakey, Nu-Kua…"

Her eyes jerked right open. "N-Nidhug?"

Wanek scowled. "No. Guess again." Her head rocked back when he struck her with the back of his hand.

That look of fear in her eyes was delicious and sent a thrill down his spine. He was becoming aroused, or at least, what was left of Nidhug was. Wanek had even stopped shuddering inside that nasty dragonskin.

Now his attention was focused on something else.

He knelt down, leaned forward, roughly brushed his lips against her ear. "Hi, babe," Wanek purred. "Remember me?"

The woman blinked, stared blankly into space. She trembled. Wanek laughed, traced circles on her arm with his fingers, directly over her union tat.

"No? Guess I wasn't that memorable, huh? Well," his hand moved down, cupped her right breast. "I remember you, Nu-Kua." He squeezed her breast, rubbed his palm against her nipple. "I remember all the good times we had down in hell. Well, the good times we would have had down there. I was just trying to be friendly. And you rejected me, remember?"

"Wa-Wanek," the woman whispered softly.

Wanek smiled. "See? You remember me after all. I knew you would. " He gave her breast another squeeze. "We can wait here for Dean. Got another party favor for him too. In the meantime you can apologize to me for the way you treated me back then." Wanek stood up, then sat down on the couch. She was limp, dead weight, but he handled her easily, picked her up by her shoulders and sat her down on his lap.

He kissed her slowly, deeply. Her mouth tasted like fresh fruit, easily the best thing Wanek tasted since he came topside.

* * *

The open air promenade on the Empire State Building was crowded, filled with tourists and sight seekers. Harvey Ross had lived in New York City all his life, passed by the building every day on his way to work for as long as he could remember. Now that he was on unemployment, he had some time to kill, and he decided what the heck. Might as well go up and see what all the fuss was about.

It was spectacular. Harvey was a little afraid of heights, so he was careful to stay away from the railings. Still and all, it was an incredible view of the city skyline.

_Dude,_ this whiskey smooth voice inside his head drawled. _Move your ass. You're in my spot._

Harvey frowned.

_Don't make me repeat myself, dumbass. Move it or you will surely lose it._

Harvey moved.

The air turned inside out, darkly, and a man stepped through. He was dressed in all black, sleek and expensive. Huh. That pair of designer dark sunglasses he had on was probably worth a month's pay. He was tall and broad-shouldered, with spiky dark blond hair. His full lips quirked upward when he saw Harvey staring at him.

"And what the hell you looking at?" the man rumbled.

Harvey looked around. No one else noticed.

So Harvey decided to walk away without saying a word.

Draco could only curl up comfortably underneath Dean's skin and watch with something akin to awe. The dragon could certainly understand why his _anguigena _was such an effective, lethal hunter.

It was only natural for him to go to the highest point of the city, to begin the hunt.

Dean didn't have to shoulder his way through the crowd. They parted before him. No one would have dared to challenge him, even if they'd known he was there, but even so he had to fight the urge to lash out at the crowd around him. Being confronted by Sam, the news of Nancy's impending pregnancy, and now his inability to track Nidhug and those demons was all getting on his nerves.

Added to that was the fact that the observation deck was fairly closed in, with wire and metal barriers around and overhead…if he didn't know any better, he'd think he was a tad claustrophobic.

He never had been before. Digging graves had never bothered him. Jail cells? _Please._ Great place to take a nap.

Dean stepped to the railing, and he settled himself with an effort. He raised his right hand, and the metal barriers directly in front and above him twisted out of the way, gave him a clear view of the skyline.

Dean nodded. Better.

He stood there quietly, took a deep breath and closed his eyes.

* * *

_No…_

_Touching us…_

_Please, Daddy, no…_

_Stop this…stop…_

_I'll be a good girl, Daddy, I'll be good…_

_Draco…Beloved…_

_Dean…_

_Please, please…_

_Nance?_ Dean opened his eyes.

_Dean, please…_

Draco froze._ Beloved?_

_Nancy? _Dean growled. Images and sensation flickered across his skin, behind his eyes, made his flesh crawl. He felt the wetness of a mouth against skin, fingers groping and fumbling at clothing.

Warm breath in his ears.

"Knew you'd like this, Nu-Kua," the voice whispered. "That's my girl. I'll make it good for you, sweetheart…"

_Help me...._

_Nidhug,_ Dean hissed under his breath. _You son of a bitch ----_

Dean threw back his head. Draco roared at the heavens, and so did Dean.

Harvey Ross cowered in a corner, next to the exit doors. He saw the whole thing. The man in black was surrounded by the image of a huge winged bronze dragon.

Everything not bolted down was flung backwards as those gigantic wings unfurled into the bright afternoon sky. The man didn't fly away. The wings dipped down, folded around him, and he vanished into thin air.

Harvey never mentioned that to anyone else.

Harvey went home and got drunk. He stayed that way for two days.

The railings and overhead barriers on the observation deck twisted outward, and it was only sheer dumb luck that no one was flung out over the edge.

* * *

"So sweet," Wanek cooed. Winchester's bitch smelled like lavender. She felt good to the touch. He laid a line of kisses right down her throat and Wanek decided right then that she was wearing too many clothes.

Time he did something about _that_.

As soon as he unbuttoned her yellow blouse everything went straight to hell.

There was a ripple in the air, strong enough to raise goosebumps in that hated dragon skin of his.

Dean Winchester was coming.

Dean Winchester was_ here_, standing right over him. Wanek tried to shield himself with the woman's body. He slid his hand inside his coat pocket for Dean's collar, and it was too little, too late. His fingers brushed against the pale white leather of the collar and he screamed as all five fingers were broken and then ripped off.

The woman was carefully, gently pulled from his arms. That was the only gentle part in all of this, and once she was out of his grasp, things got worse. Much worse.

Dean's eyes blazed ruby red, hot enough to sear the skin off Nidhug's face and chest, down to his waist, third degree burns for sure, and that was only the beginning. Wanek couldn't breathe, couldn't move. He groaned as his vessel's spine snapped in three separate pieces, and then he was yanked backward, screaming, as something unseen etched the image of a blacked out triangle within a circle onto his forehead.

He was picked up and slammed into the far wall with so much force that the building shook. Both his kneecaps shattered, as did all the bones in both ankles.

Wanek opened his mouth wide. It was time to leave, time to go. He gathered himself up inside the body, thought about exiting through Nidhug's mouth in a thick coil of boiling black smoke.

Nothing.

Wanek slid down the wall slowly, and then stopped with his shattered legs dangling two feet off the floor, and in that instant he knew that it was all supposed to happen this way. He was the bait in the trap. The others hadn't shown up.

They weren't going to. Never were.

Wanek saw his death in Dean Winchester's eyes, saw how the air around the man boiled and churned with red hot rage. Winchester gently cradled his woman in his arms and faded out in a snap of dark golden light.

There was a moment when Wanek actually thought he had a chance, even though he was broken and busted and pinned to the wall. A moment when he actually thought the door was going to burst open and Liet and Cholas and Muth would burst through.

Didn't happen. The air shimmered again and Wanek was suddenly face to face with Dean Winchester, staring straight into those merciless ruby red serpent eyes.

* * *

_Well now. How 'bout those Mets?_ Sam thought to himself.

"Uh, sir?"

Sam looked up from his paper. Huh. Security dudes, by the look of it. Two of them.

One was older than Sam, the younger one looked like a human wall with an extremely short blond crew cut.

"Yes?"

"Uh, do you have business here?"

Sam smiled. "Yes, I do. I'm waiting for someone."

The human wall quirked an eyebrow at him. "Someone?"

Sam's smile got even wider. "I'm waiting for Dean Winchester. He's my brother."

Sam didn't know what kind of reaction mentioning Dean's name would cause, but he didn't expect this. The two security dudes just stood there and stared. And stared.

Neither one of them even blinked.

Sam leaned forward. "Uh, hello?"

Still nothing, This feeling of dread curled its way up his spine. Sam looked around and everyone in the lobby was frozen right where they stood or sat.

He felt it then.

Dean.

Dean stood right behind him.

Sam saw something move, bright and silver, out of the corner of his left eye. Hand. Dean's hand, with that wide silver ring he always wore. Sam opened his mouth, tried to turn around. Nothing.

Dean's touch was light, barely noticeable, and everything around Sam went black.

* * *

Sam came to moments later, standing on his feet.

The first thing he saw was Dean, standing ten feet away, staring right at him.

Something had changed from the last time Sam saw him on the streets. Dean still wore that expensive black suit, but the shades were gone. Dean's eyes were ruby red, serpent eyes, and as bad as that was, it rapidly got worse.

The air around him was filled with black particles that buzzed and churned angrily. It took Sam a moment to realize that the airborne debris was from the floor around Dean; the concrete was being scoured away by faint blue lines of force in a circular pattern that radiated out from his feet.

Sam flinched as one of the floating concrete chips striped his left cheekbone. It wasn't deep enough to draw blood; it was just a scratch.

Dean cocked his head to one side. "Sammm," he rumbled, and Dean's voice was too deep, too low. No set of human vocal chords should have been able to make a sound like that.

Oh, hell. This wasn't much of a plan to begin with, but he may as well get on with it.

Sam cleared his throat, a look of annoyance on his face. "You're Draconêdismos Vermithrax. That's your name, right? I want to talk to my brother, Dean. Not you."

Dean chuckled darkly. "Same old bitchface, huh, Sam?" The words were pure Dean, but the tone and inflection was inhuman.

Sam tried not to look startled, but Dean picked up on it just the same. "I was your brother. Not anymore."

"That's crap, Dean, and you know it." Sam glanced around the place. It looked like an abandoned building somewhere, covered with years of dust and dirt. "You made this deal to keep me and Bobby safe. Don't lie to me, dude. I know better."

Dean drew himself up to his full height, and as he did so the air behind him darkened.

Sam kept his game face on, but he felt his stomach drop somewhere to the vicinity of his ankles. Massive bronze wings unfurled smoothly into the air behind Dean's back. His clothing remained untouched. "We are one. Now and forever. And nothing you say or do will ever separate us."

Sam snorted. "That bit with the wings? I've seen that before. You got any other tricks I haven't seen? I saw how you acted at Joe Black's house. You fought the dragon, Dean. You refused to kill Joe Black, and we both know that Joe Black was the dragon's son."

Dean shook his head slowly. "You don't know what you saw." His voice rumbled like thunder overhead.

"Now what, huh? What are you going to do, kill me?"

"No." Dean tilted his head to one side, and the motion was somehow alien. Too smooth. The air around him rippled with power. "There is something we want you to see." Dean smirked. "A trick you haven't seen before." He raised his right hand, which was closed in a fist, then unclenched his fingers in one smooth motion.

Sam didn't expect what happened next.

Something dropped from the dark ceiling above onto the floor right next to Dean. At first Sam thought it was an oversized, overstuffed duffel bag.

Until he saw dusty black clothes, black hair, twisted arms and legs.

It was the man Sam had watched walk through the hotel lobby earlier. He'd thought there was something strange about the dude. A wrongness that Sam couldn't put his finger on.

The man's eyes were pitch black. Sam could tell every bone in his body was broken. Jagged shards of bone protruded up through his skin, his arms and legs were twisted like pipe cleaners.

Dean glanced down and he actually growled at the man, no words, just a deep vibration that raised goosebumps on Sam's skin. Dean looked feral, otherworldly.

He looked exactly like one of the things they used to hunt.

Crap. Maybe this plan really sucked after all.

Dean made a slight gesture with his right hand. The man struggled up onto his knees, and the sound of bone sifting and breaking was enough to make Sam's stomach clench. It dawned on Sam, then, that he really didn't know what he was looking at, because Dean was making this demon hurt himself like that. This dude was a puppet, and Dean was pulling the strings.

Dean looked down at the man and smiled, bright and predatory.

"I'll never tell you where they are," the man whispered brokenly.

Dean didn't say a word. The fingers of his right hand curled into a claw and he thrust his fingers into the top of the possessed one's head. The man's mouth stretched wide in a silent scream, and the inside of his mouth lit up with a pale blue light.

Sam stood there, staring. He could see Dean's fingertips in the back of the man's throat.

Sam recognized Dean's wide silver washer ring.

Dean scrambled this demon's brain inside out, did it just as casually as one might rifle through a drawer of file cabinets.

The demon's vessel shook and jittered in place, and that was the thing, Dean didn't care that there was a man in there. He only watched with this feral smirk as the man began to shrivel from the inside out. His skin wrinkled and darkened like rotten fruit as his bones collapsed, sunk in on themselves like half cooked pasta.

Dean pulled his hand back from the limp sack of flesh and bones, allowed the body to slowly collapse onto the floor. He stared at the pale blue glow that danced on his fingertips like a gas flame.

"Meg," Dean growled to himself, and that surely got Sam's attention.

"M-Meg?" Sam squeaked. He cleared his throat. "Meg's involved in this?"

Dean looked up, somewhat startled, as though he realized Sam was still there.

Sam shook all over as he was held in place. He was forced down onto his knees, slowly. Dean was hurting him.

Sam opened his mouth, and Dean shook his head. Sam gagged as his throat closed up. He was allowed only enough air to breathe, not to speak.

"You don't have anything to say that I want to hear," Dean said quietly. "You want normal. You always have, Samuel."

Samuel? Not Sam, or even Sammy.

_No. Dean, please…_Sam pleaded with his eyes.

The pressure inside Sam's head became too great. The last thing he heard as he slid into darkness was Dean's voice, amplified by the aspect of the dragon: "Go live your normal life. This life? This life is mine. My life, my choice. If I see you again, Samuel Winchester, I will kill you."


	33. Chapter 33: Evolution of an Emperor

Chapter 33 **Evolution of an Emperor**

"Baby?" _Beloved?_

Their mates' combined voices filtered down into their consciousness. Nancy struggled to open her eyes as Nu-Kua stirred within, pumping energy into her body. Now she could feel her cheek being stroked. At first she feared it was the demon, but then the combined worry from Dean and Draco poured over her. Nancy smiled a the depth of their concern and commitment. When her eyes opened, she required a moment for the blur hovering over her to focus into Dean's beautiful worried face. His deep ruby eyes stared down anxiously.

"Baby?" he rumbled again, his voice a deeper timbre than usual.

_Their bond has strengthened_, Nu-Kua observed. _Their personalities are merging. How odd. Soon it could become impossible to tell them apart. I find this...disturbing._

Nancy's smile broadened as she reached weakly for him. "I'm good," she whispered, her arms wrapping around his neck. "I'm always safe with you."

_Does it really matter?_ She demanded of Nu-Kua. _Don't you like the excitement?_

The tense ball Nu-Kua had been curled into relaxed. The great black dragon stretched out, pressing against every part of Nancy's body from the inside as Dean pressed against her from the outside.

_I crave a different form of excitement. One we shall experience very soon, I believe._

Nancy curled into Dean's protective embrace. The moment she could stop shivering, she fully intended to express just how grateful she was. For as long as she could.

* * *

Sam gasped on all fours, his throat raw and burning. He gulped lungfuls of air until the sensation of being suffocated waned. A gurgle to his left drew his attention. It was the demon. Well, what was left of it. Sam pushed off the ground, his stomach revolting violently. He stumbled back several steps, panic controlling his actions. Another deep breath to calm his nerves and Sam forced his brain to override his emotions.

He needed to do something about this body. There was no hope for it, not all broken and twisted like that. But why had the demon remained inside? Why hadn't it escaped in a cloud of black smoke? Sam slowly removed his phone from his pocket.

At first he had intended only to call Bobby, but then he noticed a sigil burned into the body's forehead. Sam stepped forward cautiously, unsure if the demon could do, well, anything. When the response was merely another gurgle, Sam lifted his phone to snap a photo of the sigil. Bobby's stupid old cell phone couldn't receive a picture so Sam sent it to the next best place, the email of their dragon expert.

He couldn't just leave it like this, not even a demon. Sam drew out his handgun and pressed it against the back of its head. Considering the caliber, it was guaranteed to sever the spinal cord. Instant death. Well, it would be for the human. But the demon inside? Still he had to try, to put it out of its misery.

"I hope this works," Sam muttered to the demon. "I'm guessing if your body is dead, either you will be too or you'll be able to leave it." He shrugged. "Either way, I'm going for no more pain, even though you won't appreciate it. At least I'll be able to sleep tonight."

There were several gurgles in response. Sam's face twisted in a grimace as he pulled determinedly on the trigger, never wanting to hear that noise again. The gun kicked in his hand, more blood and flesh splattering as soft tissue and bone dissolved in the blast. The body was quiet, no more gurgling noises, no movement. He let out a sigh of relief.

"Thank..." Thank God sounded so wrong in this situation. Sam glanced at the gun in his hand. "Thank Smith and Wesson." He used a rag he found on his way out to wipe the blood off the gun and his hand. Unwilling to leave dna at the scene, Sam stuffed the rag in his back pocket. His cell went off as he stepped out of the abandoned building. It didn't look like he was in New York any more. More like he was in dilapidated former industrial area of a much smaller town. Jersey?

"Bobby?" Sam asked as he answered.

"Sam, that's a binding symbol. The demon can't leave the body," Bobby told him. "If you kill the body, depending on how strong the binding symbol is, you could conceivably kill the demon. Now, I never saw this exact one before but Jeri says it's probably from the dragon era, which would make sense."

"Bobby, does Jeri have any protection symbols that old? I have an idea," Sam told him.

"Boy, I get a real bad feeling whenever you say that," Bobby grumbled. "But yeah, I'll ask."

"Oh, Bobby? There's one more thing I need you to do," Sam said.

"What?"

"I need you to go on the website for my cell provider and locate the gps on my phone. I don't know where the hell I am," Sam replied.

Bobby sighed. "You're gonna have to walk me through it, Sam. I take it there's a story behind this?"

Sam remembered Bobby's comment about Dean being the finest man he knew. "Yeah," Sam said. "I'll tell you about it later," he lied. "Right now I need to get back. It looks like there's a regular demon after Dean too. It's Meg."

"Oh, that bitch," Bobby growled. "She still owes me for scratchin' up my floor."

"First I really need to know where I am, Bobby," he reminded the older hunter.

"Oh, right. Uh, okay. Ready. What do I do first?"

* * *

"How about a walk?" Nancy suggested. "I'd like to go outside." She held up a hand. "The regular way."

Dean smiled at her. "Sure, Baby," he promised. He motioned to the large room they were in. "This used to belong to one of the traitors. I figure it belongs to us now." He heard the deeper pitch of his own voice, felt the rumble in his chest. It was comforting, soothing, but nothing made him feel better than seeing Nancy behave normally.

She looked down disdainfully at her yellow blouse and skirt. "I swear, I can still smell him on me."

"Shopping?" Dean suggested hopefully. "There should be a place close by."

"Only if we can walk." Her smile was blinding, a perfect match for her golden eyes.

Dean held out his arm. Her hand was warm and strong as she gripped him. He led her out of the luxury loft to the elevator, scanning the area around them and the floors they passed on the way down. Before the doors opened on the lobby level, Dean had already scanned the floor. No threats. He smiled as he pretended to guide her outdoors. Nancy was in complete control of where they went now, and she knew it. Her head was tilted up at an imperial angle and the sunlight glinted off her gold eyes. She was gorgeous.

"Stop staring," she whispered. "People will think there's something wrong with me."

Dean wrapped an arm over her shoulders. "No, Baby," he murmured in her ear. "Nobody thinks anything's wrong. They're too busy looking at how beautiful you are. No one is watching me."

She laughed lightly and leaned into his embrace. "Oh, you sweet talker, you."

His heart leapt. It was like falling in love with her all over again. He remembered the first time he saw her in the bar. How the sunlight had reflected off her ebony scales. She had been so beautiful with her long dark hair and golden eyes.

Dean paused, confused. That couldn't be right. Nancy walked ahead a step before turning to see what was wrong.

"Baby?" she asked. "Are we going or not?"

This part was never confusing. Anything for Her. He smiled at her, his heart pounding in his chest at the shine in her eyes and the smile on her face.

"We're going," he assured her, hurrying to walk beside her again. "How many clothes do you wish to have today?"

She laughed again. "My, aren't we formal?" Her arm wound behind his back. "You're always surprising me."

He enjoyed the closeness and her company as they approached a store of her specifications. It was high end. Nothing but the best for his his Beloved-Baby.

* * *

Nu-Kua was pleased with how Dean doted on them, had eyes only for them. Her plan was working. It was disconcerting that Draco had not spoken to her directly since they woke, but not too unusual.

_Beloved?_ she asked. She wanted to hear his opinion on Dean's current actions.

"Yes?" Dean rumbled deeply, the timbre of his voice far deeper than she had ever heard it, even when Draco spoke through him.

"I didn't say anything," Nancy protested.

Dean smiled at them. "Sorry, I thought you called me."

Nu-Kua raised up, peering through Nancy's eyes. They were nearing the store and Dean was still smiling and watching Nancy. Surely he had not heard her. Only Draco could hear her.

_Open the door_, Nu-Kua ordered.

Dean rushed ahead to hold open the door for Nancy. Nu-Kua slumped down into her favorite spot within Nancy. She needed time to think, to consider this unprecedented turn of events. The situation made her queasy. Nu-Kua hunkered down deeper. She really needed to think.

Nancy selected a few new outfits while Dean-Draco watched on appreciatively and Nu-Kua tried to understand what was happening.

_I like the way he keeps looking at me_, Nancy told her. _Don't you?_

_Perhaps_, Nu-Kua admitted. Clearly their mate chose an even tighter bond. Could it have been from the danger she and Nancy had been in? If Nu-Kua had not been so involved in preparing Nancy's body, she would have been able to sense the danger and protect them. This blending of her beloved Draco and Dean was her fault, hers alone. When she and Nancy were in danger and called to their mate, the combined anger of Dean and Draco must have fused them more than before. It was possible their mate had not realized it yet himself.

Nancy was undisturbed by the changes, finding the new dragon characteristics in Dean thrilling. It was an attitude Nu-Kua could understand and appreciate. She caused this situation, the least she could do was accept it. It would not be easy to lose her ability to confide in only Draco from time to time, to make plans for their vessels, but it was not the worst burden she had had to suffer. At least they were still together. Her beloved was by her side and would remain. Always.

"You're sure, Baby?" His voice penetrated to Nu-Kua's hiding place, the rumble pleasant and soothing. "You can have whatever you want."

Nancy's pulse quickened. "That's all I want," she assured their mate. She held out the bag and Dean's hand took it from her, his other hand holding the door open.

They walked out into the early afternoon sunshine. Nancy leaned against Dean's side and his arm was behind her, his free hand pressed against the small of her back. They had walked a number of blocks when their mate stopped and pulled Nancy into a tight embrace.

"Beloved," he whispered in her ear. "This is our city now, right?"

Rule. He wished to rule! Nu-Kua surged up in her excitement. She urged Nancy to agree. Nancy nodded slowly.

"Then it is time for our subjects to learn what we will and will not tolerate," he said in a voice that gave Nu-Kua a chill. By the Mother of All Dragons, _Draconêdismos Vermithrax _had never sounded like this.

"Come."

It was a command, once which she and Nancy obeyed instantly. It would not have occurred to Nu-Kua to refuse. They followed only a step behind Dean-Draco. He threaded through the alleys until they were in a place where there was only one route in or out. Here the buildings met, closing in a space the size of a small house with a single narrow alley leading to it. You would have to know it was here to find it, or be very lost. At least a dozen rough looking men stood in a circle shouting and jeering at the event in the circle's center. A few noticed their approach, breaking away from the circle to intercept. The men were not allowed close enough to touch. Their mate held up a hand and the men, all of them, froze in place. Only their eyes could still move. Dean-Draco removed his sunglasses to peer around them.

Nancy waved a hand in front of one of the frozen men, watching his frightened eyes follow her movements.

"No, Beloved," Dean-Draco rumbled, taking her by the hand. "Don't touch. We don't know where they're been."

"I wasn't going to touch," Nancy protested as she was pulled along. He motioned for her to stay right outside the circle as he returned her shopping bag. She clutched the twine handles in one hand. Their mate swept his hands through the air and the frozen men fell like bowling pins, their rigid bodies rocking and rolling under the force of the unseen blow.

In what used to be the center of the circle was a woman. She did not move. Her clothes were torn from her bloodied body, her legs stretched unnaturally wide. Her eyes stared blankly up and bruises covered her throat.

Dean-Draco sighed deeply as he reached down to close her eyes. "I guess a gang-bang wasn't enough." He shook his head as he stood. Then his deep ruby serpent eyes locked on Nancy. "This is no longer allowed," he declared loudly, his voice echoing in the ally.

He surveyed the fallen men surrounding them. "You," he said to one. "You only watched. I spare your life so you may warn others of the punishment for violating my decree." With a flip of the wrist, the man could move again. "Go!"

The man, scared witless, leapt to his feet and raced out the exit, stumbling over his fallen comrades in his haste.

"Punishment?" Nancy asked. Nu-Kua felt a rush of pride that her vessel was unafraid. They had no reason to fear anyone or anything. Not any longer.

Dean-Draco's smile was predatory and Nu-Kua saw the handsomeness Nancy spoke of frequently. He held out a hand to escort her from this place. At the entrance to the alley, he lifted his other hand to place his sunglasses back over his eyes. Then his palm began to glow. The glow grew into a raging ball of fire. He turned to face the others at the scene of their crime. To complete the bowling analogy, he tossed the fire-ball down the alley like a bowling ball. It grew as it rolled, flames licking the brick sides of the buildings, engulfing the men unable to move as painful death rolled over them. When they could see nothing but a wall of flame, Dean-Draco turned away to return to the street. As they reached the street, Nancy could hear the screams of the dying men.

Dean-Draco smiled sweetly as he took the shopping bag from her hand. "Hungry?" he asked. "I smell food ahead."

"Yes, Baby," she whispered, her breath taken away by the display of power. Nu-Kua crowed her pleasure within their shared head-space. Their mate would once again restore them to the glory they deserved. Power. Respect. Servants.

_No more servants_, Nancy admonished. _They're too...perishable_.

Nu-Kua laughed at the observation. _Which is why we replace them._

"No," Dean-Draco said in a command tone. "No more servants for you." He glanced over, the red glow of his eyes behind the shades reflected by his tanned skin. He lifted Nancy's hand to kiss her palm. "Except for me. And I'll never leave your side when you're vulnerable again."

A shudder of excitement and pleasure rippled through Nu-Kua and Nancy. "Yes, My Emperor," they replied together. His smile, bright and feral, was all the reward they could hope for.

* * *

Sam stepped out of the airport in the passenger pick-up area. A horn honked and a older model blue Chevy pickup pulled up next to him. Jeri was driving with Bobby riding shotgun. There was no back seat. Bobby opened the door before scooting over to sit in the middle.

Sam resisted rolling his eyes at the obvious ruse to sit closer to Jeri. There was no way they both needed to pick him up.

"Detroit?" Bobby demanded once Sam had settled in and closed the door. "What the hell were you doin' in Detroit? And how'd you get there, for that matter."

"Dean left me there," Sam spat. He would never divulge what happened in the abandoned building to Bobby. That was a secret he intended to take to his grave. "And don't ask me how, because I don't know. Let's just say that it's something I never want to experience again." And that was putting it mildly.

"We'll need to go by that garage where the Impala is. I need a few things from the trunk," he told Bobby.

"Had to ditch all your weapons, huh?" Bobby grunted.

"Everything but the Holy Water," Sam agreed. "Any luck on a protection symbol that will work against dragons?"

"I think so," Jeri said loudly. The hum of the truck's tires on the road was louder than riding in the Impala, the wind noise greater even with the windows up. "Singer has it."

Bobby pulled a folded paper from his pocket to hand over. Sam opened it and spread it out on his thigh. "Now all we have to do is figure out what the demon has in mind for Dean. We should probably assume Meg knows he's bonded with a dragon, too, so she'll be ready for him." He looked thoughtfully at the older people in the truck. "If you wanted to trap and maybe kill a dragon, what would you do?"

Sam tried to wait patiently while the older hunter and dragon expert thought and discussed various options. The real question was, of course, what Meg would do. She would want to hurt Dean. A lot. In the past she had used Sam. A chill crept down his spine as a new idea took hold. He wouldn't have to figure out where Meg or Dean were. Meg would take him to his brother. All he needed to do was advertise where he was.


	34. Chapter 34: Dragon In The Mirror

_**Chapter 34 – Dragon in the Mirror **_

_**GET OUT.**_

_**NOW.**_

One by one the twenty eight restaurant patrons got up and very quietly walked out the door. The waiters and the kitchen staff didn't seem to notice. They stood in a line next to Dean and Nancy's table, heads bowed, quietly waiting for orders.

Nu Kua was thrilled.

Her scales rippled in sheer delight, from her head to the tip of her tail. No one noticed Dean's ruby red eyes; there was no reason for either of them to hide.

Nancy was pleased.

She glanced up as a blonde woman and her husband passed the table. The woman was older, about the same age as Nancy's real mom, but that wasn't the reason Nancy looked at her.

This human woman had a most exquisite three tiered necklace of pearls around her neck, with a sapphire pendant at her throat.

Dean saw the look. Nancy and Nu-Kua didn't have to say a thing. The necklace disappeared in a soft haze of light and re-appeared securely fastened around Nancy's neck.

The blonde woman didn't react. She and her husband continued walking towards the doors.

_Anything for you, Beloved. _Dean leaned over and kissed Nancy full on the mouth. The sound of his voice and the gentle touch of his lips made Nancy and Nu-Kua preen.

Dean motioned for the maitre'd to come over. The man would not have dared to move until he was given permission. The last patron left, and the doors swung closed and locked quietly behind them.

The maitre'd rattled off the names of the dishes, the salmon, roast beef, shrimp, and the rest. All went well until he said the special was "grilled free range rabbit with herb french fries."

Dean just stared at the man, his ruby eyes darkening slightly as they went to slits. _"It's like __Fatal Attraction__ all over again," _Dean rumbled.

Nancy and Nu Kua held their collective breath.

"Sir? I don't understand," the maitre'd stammered.

"_Why does the rabbit always get screwed in the deal? Poor little guy,"_ Dean growled.

Nu-Kua and Nancy were fascinated. They had seen their mate in every conceivable mood, but this was something new.

Dean must have been very fond of rabbits in his old life.

"Uh, s-sir?" The maitre'd was finding it suddenly hard to breathe. His cheeks pinked up as he hooked a finger underneath his white collar, tried to pull it away from his neck.

"_You heard me." _Dean's voice rattled the window frames._ "No rabbit. Not now, not ever."_

"Yes, sir." The maitre'd jerked upright as his throat was suddenly released.

"Baby?' Dean purred softly. "Order whatever you like."

Nancy nodded as she looked at the menu. She'd had a craving for red snapper lately.

* * *

It was easy. Like shooting fish in a barrel.

Liet grabbed the human male by the back of his neck and jerked him backwards. The meatsuit tried to fight when he tried around, but one look at Liet's black eyes and the young man froze like a deer in the headlights. The expression of pure shock on the kid's face was actually kind of comical. Liet punched him in the face and the human was out like a light. Cartilage crunched underneath Liet's knuckles. Mistress wanted them alive.

A broken nose was going to be the least of anyone's worries.

* * *

The meal was excellent. The staff served the plates and then stood back at a respectable distance from Dean and Nancy. She was radiant, as always; that pearl necklace did not even begin to do her beauty justice.

Dean was looking forward to teaching Meg her place. She was little more than the dust underneath his feet. Wanek tried to conceal Meg's location without much luck, but Dean opened him up, casually and without much thought. Dean couldn't remember being able to do something like that before. But he'd done it, right? He picked up his champagne glass, stared at his fingers.

For a moment his fingertips glowed with an odd, pale blue light.

Of course, he'd had to sift through all the crap that was inside the damn demon's brain. Black, oily thoughts, thick as sludge. The thoughts about Nu-Kua in particular made Dean's blood boil, but he was able to ignore all of that, knowing that the bastard was going to spend the rest of his life trapped in a rotting corpse. One way or another, when the body died, Wanek would die, slowly, painfully.

It wasn't nearly agonizing enough, but it would have to do.

There were three places Meg could be. Three. Dean planned visiting them all, and of course, he would make an example of anyone he found at each location. If the city thought the Dragon Slayer was spectacular, well...Dean smiled quietly to himself.

He was just getting started.

They'd find another aerie, better than the penthouse in the hotel, but that galled Dean too. They couldn't stay there anymore, no matter how well he shielded the place. His sense of security about the place had been violated. The place had been breached twice in one day. First by Wanek.

Then by Sam Winchester.

If they went back there…

…_holed up there_, Dean thought to himself, and the phase seemed alien to him…

Sam Winchester would haunt the place like a bad memory. Dean was sure of it. He'd agreed not to harm the boy, but he knew that Samuel would not give up. He would come back, and he would bring that older hunter with him. Singer.

_Bobby. His name is Bobby. _

Dean frowned. Why had he called Sam _Samuel_? He hadn't ever done that before.

Nancy noticed the look and frowned. "Dean? Baby? Are you all right?"

He nodded. "I'm fine." Nancy did not look like she was convinced of that.

Dean smiled at her, warmly, and she visibly relaxed.

"I'll be back in a moment," Dean rumbled. He scanned the place once more as he stood up. Nothing. There was only the staff here, and they were only human. Nothing to worry about.

Dean's shoulder blades tingled, not unpleasantly, and he recognized the feeling: he was restless. He wanted to take flight, or at the very least, kill something.

Or someone.

The staff stood there, meekly, and Dean fought back the impulse to snap their necks one by one. That would be a waste, after all. The food here was excellent, as was the service. This place was a keeper.

It was foolish for him to feel this way.

The men's room was in the back. Dean stopped the attendant in his tracks with a single look, made the man back up and sit back down in his chair.

Dean leaned against the white porcelain with both hands.

He stared at himself hard in the mirror.

His scales were sleek as always, smooth as leather and deep metallic bronze.

Wide green eyes, full lips ---

A most impressive wing span ---

Spiky dark blond hair, broad shoulders ---

The bronze dragon in the mirror arched its neck like a warhorse, its massive wings folded up and behind its back.

Dean scowled to himself. It hadn't always been this way, had it? He could vaguely remember a time when it hadn't been. It was a distant memory that belonged to someone else. No matter how it had been before, nothing could compare with how good he felt now. His blood sang with power in his veins.

Sam was pissed with him, and Dean didn't understand why.

"You're_ Draconêdismos Vermithrax. _That's your name, right? I want to talk to my brother, Dean. _Not you_."

Dean growled to himself, low and deep. _Insolent, meddling human boy…_

The mirrors in the men's lounge vibrated.

"I saw how you acted at Joe Black's house. You fought the dragon, Dean. You refused to kill Joe Black."

Dean flexed his fingers. _Ridiculous. _

"We both know that Joe Black was the dragon's son."

_Namiazas needed to be dealt with, _Dean growled at the memory.

"I saw you resist, and it had to take over."

_I killed the traitor with my bare hands. _

"You refused to kill Joe Black. I saw that."

_These hands. _He barely noticed as his power ate into the slick, hard surface. Within a second or two his palm prints were scoured into the edge of the sink.

"_Then it is time for our subjects to learn what we will and will not tolerate." _

Dean smelled smoke, heard screaming.

_Very good, my pet. Now what do you wish to do with them all?_

_A smile slid firmly across Dean's face as he removed the dark shades. "Annihilate 'em."_

_Gordon Walker struggled in Dean's iron grip, desperately trying to pull in air. "Evil," Gordon gasped. _

"_Yeah," Dean smirked. "But you got the wrong brother."_

_A twist of Dean's wrist, and Gordon's neck snapped like a twig. _

_Gordon's life pulse stuttered wildly underneath the palm of Dean's hand. _

_And then stopped. _

Dean blinked away the sights and sounds. He adjusted his tie, ran his fingers through his hair. The feeling of being uneasy in his own skin melted away, the sense of internal struggle all but forgotten.

How he felt didn't matter. None of this mattered. The only thing that did matter was hunting Meg down, making her pay for what Wanek did to Nancy and Nu-Kua.

He would do this, but he would do it alone.

Nancy and Nu-Kua would not be pleased.

* * *

There were twenty three humans, twelve grown males, eleven adult females. None of them were over the age of twenty.

Meg rolled her eyes. Even with the gags stuffed tight in their mouths the humans were still able to make all those annoying noises. She could just imagine what they were saying: "Please, don't hurt us, please…yaddayaddayadda…"

"Yeah, right. Like that's gonna happen," Meg yawned. She'd had enough. She nodded at Liet, Muth and Cholas and they went about the business of killing, hands on. Necks snapped like twigs. Liet smiled as he worked, his eyes shining pitch black underneath the overhead lights.

Cholas and Muth looked bored.

Meg knelt, drew the last part of the triangular sigil with the piece of white chalk in her hand, and then stepped back out of the way as the bodies were dragged by their feet over to the circle she'd drawn on the floor. They arranged the bodies in a wagon-wheel spoke. The circle at the middle of the spoke was about ten feet in diameter.

The male demons stepped back, out of the way.

Meg raised her hands above her head. "I call upon you, great Matheus. I beseech your help in finding that which I have lost. I offer flesh and blood. I offer this bounty of human skin. I offer youth and potential, for you to sup upon as you will."

The air in the middle of the floor began to swirl, slowly at first, then faster, and something dark slipped into this world.

It was tall, spindly and nearly skeletal. Its arms were unnaturally long, and its fingers were long tentacles that curved in the air. It was covered in ragged hides that were different colors. One of the hides had a rose tattoo on it; the other one had "I heart Mom." It had no feet, only thick grey tentacles that waved back and forth in the air as it hovered two feet above the floor.

"What d'ya want?" he rumbled.

"I need to find someone. And I've heard you're the right fiend for the job."

Matheus looked down at the human wagon wheel and hissed. "Who?"

Meg smiled. "Winchester. We need his location and we need transport there and back."

Matheus huffed and made a handflap at the bodies on the floor. "This isn't enough. Not nearly enough for me and my kind. I have mouths to feed." Its tentacles curled in on themselves in disgust.

Cholas walked over to the door behind Meg and opened it.

Bodies fell out onto the floor. The room was packed with corpses.

Meg quirked one eyebrow at Matheus. "Well. Deal?"

Matheus' face split in two, revealing sharp jagged teeth. Meg supposed it was a smile, although she wasn't exactly sure. "Deal."

* * *

Sam stood bare-chested before the full length mirror. The sigil painted on his chest was four smaller circles within a larger circle. Instead of a small circle at the center, there was a diamond shaped sigil instead.

Bobby didn't recognize the smaller interlocking symbols at the four points (north, south, east and west). He thought the whole damn thing looked like a glorified bulls-eye.

Not the kind of thing you say at a time like this.

Jeri had taken a seat nearby, which kind of pissed Bobby off. She was very plainly perving on the young man, but Sam appeared not to notice.

Two smaller sigils were painted on the inside of Sam's elbows. The color of the paint was bright red, which was traditionally thought to be protection against evil.

Now Sam very carefully took the paintbrush and painted a long unbroken line from the sigil on his chest up the top of his shoulder, parallel to his collarbone, to the sigil on his left elbow. He did the same for his right.

"Kid, are you sure you wanna do this?" Bobby growled.

Sam nodded. "It's the quickest way."

"So you paint these sigils on your palms and your chest.---"

"And my back. Need some help with that."

"I'll help," Jeri said quickly.

Bobby frowned at her. "Thought you had to set up that tracking gizmo we're going to use?"

"Oh. Right." Jeri blushed a little. "Damn," she muttered to herself as she left the room.

Bobby rolled his eyes. "And you'll be protected. Dean and the dragon emperor won't be able to hurt you."

"In theory."

"In theory." Bobby nodded, exasperated. "This is one of most half-assed plans I've ever heard of, Sam."

"Bobby, it's all I've got." Sam put the red pot of paint down on the straight-backed chair, along with the paintbrush. "I can't leave Dean like this." Sam shook his head. "Especially now that I know that Meg's after him. If you want to bail, I understand."

Bobby blinked. "Boy, that is a hell of a thing to say to me," the older man snapped.

"Sorry."

"Yeah, you should be." Bobby stepped forward, picked up the paintbrush. "I figure when Dean comes to his senses he'll kick my ass if I let you do this alone. I'm in until we bring your idjit brother home, alive and well. Now hold still before I paint your damn toenails red too."

* * *

"Mine now," Nancy murmured. "Mine always." Her fingers stroked the union tat on Dean's bare shoulder.

"Beloved," Dean rumbled softly. Nancy purred as she arched against him. He laid down a line of kisses down her long slender throat. She tangled her fingers in his spiky hair as he turned her over onto her back.

_Without her none of this matters,_ Dean thought to himself. He rocked into her slowly, moved his body in time with her motion. He lost himself in her gentle touch, buried his face in her neck, whispered her name over and over again, breathlessly. With her, he could be totally vulnerable.

He could be at peace.

He would declare war soon enough.

* * *

The paint had to dry after Bobby finished the last brushstroke. Sam finished buttoning his shirt. It was long-sleeved, the better to conceal the sigils from Dean. He stood in front of the window, watched the traffic move back and forth, watched people walk up and down the street, oblivious.

_If you only knew,_ he thought to himself. _You think you've got normal, and that's all there is in the world. If you knew what's really out here you'd hide in your closet and never come out. _

Sam felt the hair on the back of his head stand straight up and out. It was a feeling of wrongness so strong he felt nauseous. As soon as Sam turned around he knew pretty much nothing mattered anymore.

"Hello, Sammy," the blonde purred. Her eyes shone black. "My, you're looking well."

Just one look at her, and he knew.

Sam _knew_.

"Meg…" Sam whispered hoarsely.

"That's my boy," she smiled. "We had some wild times, didn't we, Sam?" She took a step forward, and Sam stepped back. "You," another step, "me," another step, "Steve Wandell." She stopped and grinned at him. Sam had his back to the window now, and there was no where else to go.

And where the hell were Jeri and Bobby?

"Oh, and Dean. Dear old Dean. Let us not forget big brother. Come on Sam, admit it. Didn't you enjoy whaling on him? Seeing him bleed? Watching that look of pain and fear in those wide green eyes of his? You can tell me. Be honest with yourself for once."

"What the hell do you want?" Sam snarled. That was better, at least.

"What do I want?" Meg looked puzzled. "I'm a softy for family reunions, Sam. I wanna see you and Dean reunited. The Winchester brothers, together again."

"I'm not gonna help you hurt Dean."

"Now, is that any way to talk to me like that? _You're_ not gonna hurt Dean. _We are._"

The air on either side of Sam shimmered, and he was suddenly caught, held by three black eyed demons wearing dark clothing. Sam struggled, and something cold touched the back of his neck. A wave of frigid cold ran down his body, cramped his muscles.

Meg stepped forward, placed one slender finger on his lips. "Be a good boy now, will you, Sam? I might let you take a crack at Dean before this is done. After all the trouble he's put you through, I think you want that, don't you?"

The world disappeared around them all in the blink of an eye.

* * *

_Sleep now, Beloved. _

Dean opened his eyes.

Nancy murmured contentedly, tried to push up against him even more, and for a moment he held his breath. She didn't awaken. She sighed again and settled down, quiet once more.

She was pregnant now. He was sure of it.

Even more reason to wipe Meg and her kind off the face of the earth.

Dean slipped out of bed quietly, and as he did the air around him darkened. He was dressed in all black now. Changing like that seemed as easy as breathing.

He didn't look back. He couldn't. If he did, he would never leave her.

_My love…_Dean thought.

Nancy stirred, but she did not awaken.

He was outside the apartment in an eyeblink, and the air around the luxury loft flared momentarily with a dark golden light as he set the containment wards in place.

Nancy and Nu-Kua would be furious. They would make him pay dearly for this.

"Uh, sir?" The security guard standing outside didn't blink an eye when Dean appeared out of thin air. Since this building belonged to the traitors, one of the human pretzels, the humans here were already highly susceptible to dragon influence.

"My mate is inside," Dean said calmly. "You will not release her. No one else will, unless I say. Understand?"

The man nodded. "Yes sir."

Dean nodded. The guard didn't even blink as great bronze shadows rose up into the air behind Dean's back.

The wings dipped down, folded around him.

Dean vanished.


	35. Chapter 35: Bad Day

The wonderful thing about being an Empress? Never apologizing. It has been months since the last update? We were cruising around the world with handsome young men peeling grapes by our side. However, since this is the climax of our story, it should have been posted long ago.

Chapter 35: **Bad Day**

Nancy woke alone, the sheets next to her cool to the touch. She pried her eyes open, her gaze scouring the room. Why was she alone? Her first thought was something had taken her mate, but Nu-Kua assured her they would have woken. Her gold shimmering eyes narrowed dangerously.

He left. He left without her.

An amazing, spectacular dinner. They had made sweet, sensual love until she had been too tired to keep her eyes open.

That bastard! He wasn't sure he would be coming back. It was their mate's way of saying goodbye.

Furious, Nancy and Nu-Kua roared their displeasure, the walls and ceiling shaking with their wrath. Racing footsteps confirmed their abandonment by by their mate. Human servants raced into the room, stopping short upon viewing Nancy's nakedness.

"Dress us," she ordered with a growl. "We are going out."

Several scurried to retrieve her discarded clothing while one dropped to bended knee. "Mistress," he said in a breathless voice, "we have been told you are to remain here until Master returns."

Her eyes flashed with fury. Insolence. This servant would never take another breath.

* * *

The apartment door splintered and burst open at his approach. Dean carefully stepped through the rubble. He had not sensed anyone alive inside, however it was probably worth a look. No telling what the demon bastards may have left behind.

He refrained from touching anything with his hands, preferring to kick things out of the way. Even moving demon-touched objects with his mind made him feel contaminated. There was nothing of interest here, except maybe a note on the floor.

The white slip of paper floated up to hover in front of his eyes. It was the ingredients to call a particularly nasty demon, Matheus.

_Nasty dude_, Dean thought, head tilting to one side as he studied the paper. _Bitch should've left it in Hell. I doubt she knows to put it back when she's done with it either. But on the up side, she'd leave a pretty impressive body-count to pay that dude off_.

He slid his shades on as he exited the nasty apartment. It had been contaminated. This building required cleansing.

_Clear the building_, he ordered all of the inhabitants although part of him wondered why. _Fire_.

Flames spread from his bootprints as he walked. The fire spread slowly at first, giving Dean plenty of time to walk outside. Other residents tumbled out of doorways clutching prized possessions and raced for the exits. Dean walked slowly, taking his time. This building once housed his enemy, those who sought to hurt his mate. For this affront it would pay.

By the time he stepped onto the sidewalk, fire streamed out the windows, climbing both up and down the building's exterior. Dean knew inside it burned in all the stairwells, creeping into each room to reduce the building to ashes. He amped up the heat as he shouldered his way through the crowd gathering. Some cried, some gawked, but none of it mattered to Dean. He had a demon to find. He was, after all, a demon hunter. Piece o' cake.

* * *

"Oh, Sammy," Meg breathed in Sam's ear. A cold chill raced down his arms and up his spine. "You poor dear. Big brother hasn't been very nice to you lately, now has he?" She trailed a fingernail up his neck.

He was in an abandoned warehouse tied to a metal chair, a good one, not one of those flimsy lawn chairs. Too bad, he could've broken out of that.

"I don't think you want to tangle with Dean right now," Sam protested. He had no chance of convincing her, of course, but it was worth a shot. "It really wouldn't be a good idea."

She laughed lightly and walked around him in slow circles. "You think I don't know, don't you?" She grinned brightly. "Is that what you were doing when we found you? Trying to figure out how to save Dean from the dragon?" A light-hearted cackle erupted and the noise hurt his ears.

Now Sam noticed the sigils painted on the concrete walls and worse, he recognized them. They were dragon-specific. Containment sigils. Powerful ones.

"You want to kill both of them," Sam breathed out. For some odd reason, using a demon to find Dean seemed like a really bad idea now. Maybe he should have listened to Bobby after all. Huh.

Meg's cell phone went off. Why would a demon need a cell phone? She pulled it out with a sly grin and wink. "Hello?"

Her grin broadened. "Perfect. That means he's probably on his way. Bring the others here. Now."

Black film covered her eyes when she looked at him. "He's com-ming," she said in a sing-song voice. "All we have to do is wait." She leaned into his face, flashing her borrowed cleavage at him. "Have any good ideas on how we can pass the time, Sammy?"

Sam rolled his eyes. Maybe all demons were insane.

* * *

Nancy/Nu-Kua grabbed one of the disposable servants with one hand and lifted him into the air. "We wish to leave." Her voice rumbled, she could feel his body vibrate with her anger.

The servant's head shook quickly. "Master ordered..." He gasped and choked as she tightened her grip.

"My mate is in danger," she growled and shook him. "We will leave."

Tossing him aside with no more concern than for a rag doll, Nancy/Nu-Kua, fully dressed, rushed for the exit. The entire building seemed to be enveloped by an energy shield designed specifically to keep her here. This was her mate's doing. She could scent him in the shield. Frustrated and distraught, they roared again and the building trembled with their rage.

* * *

Dean peered over his shades inside the dark bar. It was a demon gathering place. He could smell the rotting human flesh of the poor saps being possessed. Real shame how these careless demons just burned through humans like that.

He strolled through demon central, not spotting any unusual reactions. One dude had the nerve to scowl at him. His shoulders twitched and his eyes blazed red.

"You got somethin' to say?" Dean demanded, yanking on the dude's shoulder to spin him around.

The dude's eyes went pitch black and a sneer crossed his face. "Wurm," he muttered. "Go crawl back in the dirt where your kind belong." He tried to turn away, but Dean held tight.

"Oh, dude, I really wish you hadn't said that." Dean shrugged out of his tailored suit coat. He held it out behind him as if he expected a servant to come running up to hold it. No one did. Dean released it and the coat hovered in the air. "See, I'm kind of looking for someone, but she isn't here. And now, you pissed me off."

His fist was a blur when he struck out, snapping the demon's head to one side, bones snapping and popping from the blow. The demon turned again to look at him, its smile wide. "You should know better, wurm."

Dean grinned as he pressed his palm against the demon's chest. "I do." He burned a containment sigil into the possessed man's flesh. "Because now you're stuck, dude. If he dies, you die. Let's try it again."

Dean stepped back and dropped his hands down to his sides. Fire flickered from his fingertips and climbed up his arms. It twirled into flaming balls hovering over his palms.

"We like fire, remember?" Dean grinned broadly. "And I really don't like you."

The fireballs shot out from his hands to encase the stunned demon. His mouth opened and only a scream erupted, no black demon smoke. Thoroughly enjoying himself, Dean pushed out more fire until nothing was left but some fine ash and soot.

Dean glared at the demons standing around him. "Next?"

* * *

Meg dragged a chair through the sigils painted all over the floors to sit opposite Sam. "You're more fun from the other side, Sam. But that's all right. I don't mind chatting a little while we wait for your precious brother." She smiled brightly and his stomach turned. "You know, I remember when all you did was complain about him. And now you think you're going head-to-head with a dragon?"

She shook her head, her short hair barely shifting. "You're not that good, and you know it. I mean, you can't deal with me, can you?"

"BITCH!" a deep voice roared in the night.

"I think the real question is if you can deal," Sam pointed out.

"In here!" she sang out sweetly and she pulled a knife from her sleeve. "Sammy and I were just talking about you."

The wall beside the door crumpled into rubble and dust, taking a section of containment sigils with it. Sam wasn't sure if he should feel frightened or relieved. Dean, with glowing red eyes and his head cocked at an unnatural angle, stepped through.

"You dare," his voice was deep, deeper than it should have been, rough and raw, "target my mate?"

Meg grinned brightly, bouncing to her feet to stand behind Sam. "Oh, Dean. Did I make you angry?"

He walked forward until he reached the edge of a containment sigil. Meg laughed. "You didn't think I'd be unprepared, did you?"

Dean's eyes flared bright, neon red, then went to his normal green. With a sneer, he stepped over the line drawn on the floor. "You really thought that would work? Bitch?" His eyes flared red again.

"You shouldn't be able to do that," she said slowly.

Sam turned his head to see her backing away. "Dean?" he tried. "Dude, it's me."

"Yes, Samuel," the too-deep voice rumbled. "The demon bitch thought you would make good bait?" He chuckled darkly and Sam wondered if it was too late for his brother now. The ropes binding him to the chair fell away, seemingly of their own accord.

Dean glared at Meg, his hatred clear and evident. "You human demons think you're so smart. So powerful. My kind ruled the Earth when yours still swung from trees." Sam felt the ground beneath his feet fall away. He hovered in the air at least a foot off the ground. "Would you like to see how important your bait is?"

Fire flared from Dean's hands, traveling up his arms to encase his body in a blazing halo. His eyes went deep blood red and a lop-sided sneer slid on to his features. "You've always been such a pain in the ass, Samuel."

"S-Sam," he protested, wishing his feet were on solid ground. "It's Sammy!"

* * *

"It's Sammy!"

The word reverberated inside Dean's head, delving deep into his mind. He heard a loud crack, like an egg breaking only a thousand times louder. The black cube which hovered constantly in his mind-space was again a sphere. A cracked sphere.

"Dean!" the familiar voice rang out across the landscape again.

The day was bright and sunny, the sky a calm blue. Dean whipped his long bronze tail back and forth over the green grass and watched curiously as the crack widened. With a second thunderous crack, it split in two. All around him the bright day darkened as thick black clouds piled up, obliterating the sun. From the broken sphere bright flickering images, like a 35mm projector not working quite right, played on the screen of black clouds.

The images tore through him with the intensity of a searing hot scalpel, splitting him slowly down the center. He screamed in pain and horror. This could not happen! This was his world now!

Memories and thoughts shifted between the two halves, sorting themselves, drawn to the dividing personalities. When Dean opened his eyes he could see Draco again, stepping away from him and shaking that massive bronze head. Probably had the same bitch headache he did.

Next they heard ancient words, too old to sound familiar but Dean knew they weren't good. Draco roared, angry and helpless. Dean reached out to grab the great dragon, hoping to help, to keep him here. As his hand reached out and his fingertips brushed the warm scales, they passed through the space Draco had been in only seconds before.

Alone.

Darkness enveloped him, pain burning through every cell in his body until the blackness mercifully blotted it, and everything else, out.

* * *

Nancy/Nu-Kua roared again, wondering how long it would take to destroy this building using only her voice. The energy shield wavered. She paused, waiting. It flickered twice before dissipating completely.

"Are...are they gone?" Nancy whispered, horror and despair filling her.

_I do not know, child_, Nu-Kua replied sadly. _We must discover what happened to our beloved._

* * *

"Dean? Dude, are you planning to wake up this century or what?"

Sam's voice. He would know it anywhere. But when he tried to open his eyes, the pain returned. Actually, keeping them closed wasn't helping either. Holy crap! Dean could hear his breaths shorten and become heavier.

"He's waking up," another voice, also familiar, said.

Dean cracked his eyes open, just enough to see he was in a brightly lit room with two blurry heads hovering over him.

"Dude..." His voice cracked, dry and rusty. "Personal space."

"Thought we'd lost ya this time, boy." Bobby. That was Bobby's voice. "Don't you dare pull a stunt like that again."

"Back," he groaned, realizing his entire back radiated the most pain.

"Easy, Dean," Sam said, patting his arm. "Your back was pretty torn up, but at least you're not branded anymore."

Not branded? Brand. Draco. Draco was gone. He might have to keep reminding himself of that until he grew used to the idea.

"Nancy?" he asked weakly, looking at his other family. His human family.

"Who?" Bobby pulled a chair close to the bed. "Why don't you tell us what the hell happened."

Damn. No Nancy. Well, she wouldn't have anything to do with him without Draco anyway, so that much made sense. Dean closed his eyes against the questions and demands, preferring sleep to their company. If he was going to be alone again, the least they could do was quit pestering him.


	36. Finale: Catch and Release

_****__**A/N: **_The Empress always reserves the right to change her collective mind. This, then, is the epilogue, or the finale to this story.

* * *

_**Finale: catch and release**_

"I see you, Deano," Meg whispered softly. She leaned forward, elbows on the table. Dean's image inside the scrying globe shimmered a little as she ran her fingertips over the smooth surface of the glass. The globe reminded Meg of the crystal ball the Wicked Witch of the West used in the Wizard of Oz. It was a classic.

Meg loved the classics.

Half a state away, in a spare room at Singer Salvage, Dean Winchester lay in bed silent and listless.

Poor boy just wasn't having a good day.

Meg stared hard at Dean's chest, and she giggled a little as his breath hitched in his throat. He stirred restlessly, his head turning back and forth on the pillow. Killing him outright just wasn't part of the plan; that would have been too merciful, and mercy was a quality that Meg wasn't known for. This way, she could toy with him from a distance, torment him, and as an added bonus, drive Sam Winchester and Bobby Singer absolutely crazy. They couldn't see her, and they couldn't stop her.

She applied pressure around his throat with just a glance, and Dean's back arched a little. His hands hooked into claws as he pulled at the bedsheets around him. He looked beautiful like that, a pale marble statue, perfect in his distress. The cords in his neck stretched long and tight. Dean moaned, low and desperate, and that sound was music to Meg's ears.

There was just one thing missing.

His eyes were closed. Meg wanted to see the green of them, wanted to see the fear and confusion in his eyes. After all, he was so much fun to play with.

Meg leaned forward until her breath lightly fogged the glass. "Come on, Dean," she whispered. "Let me see those eyes of yours, darlin'. And after I get done with _you_, your two bitches are next."

As soon as she said that Meg knew she'd made a terrible mistake.

Dean's eyes snapped open. They were still green, all right, but too bright, terrible, filled with unimaginable power. Perhaps it was one last gasp of whatever power remained inside Dean, _his_ power, _not _Draco's, and Meg suddenly knew what its next target would be.

The walls of the room around Dean rippled with power. Pictures on the wall danced and jittered uncontrollably. Objects danced across the nightstand next to his bed and crashed to the floor. A tidal wave of irresistable force radiated outwards from Dean's body.

Thin jagged cracks stitched across the glass surface of the globe, small at first, then larger.

"You lousy bitch..." Dean whispered hoarsely. "You leave them the hell alone, y'hear me? You leave 'em alone..."

Meg jerked backwards. Too little, too late.

The globe exploded, a blinding golden light that engulfed the room. All four windows blew out, half melted particles of window glass a silvery cloud in the bright afternoon air.

Miles away, Dean was dimly aware of Sam leaning over him, calling his name. Dean relaxed. His head hurt like a sonofabitch, a dull heavy ache that settled down right behind his eyes, and he couldn't remember why he hurt like that. He was tired, ground down to the bone. Tired of everything, tired of Sam being around him all the time. Sam wasn't Nu-Kua, and he wasn't Draco. Dean's eyelids became so heavy he gave up the effort of trying to keep them open. It was easier to just lie there, and slowly sink into sleep.

* * *

_Still alive,_ Meg thought. Well, _that _was a surprise. Ol' Deano was slipping then. Too bad for him.

Reanimating dead meat was a royal pain in the ass, but right now there wasn't anything else she_ could_ do, until another warm body came along.

Meg stared down at her arms and legs. Her vision was blurred., especially on the left side. Something was wrong, and she couldn't tell what, not at first anyway. She could tell that every bone in her meatsuit's body was broken. Jagged pieces of white bone poked up through her shredded skin. Her right foot was blown off. All that was left was a bloody stump at the end. She wiggled her arms and legs, tried to stand up.

She couldn't.

Her sight cleared just then, went from fuzzy to crystal clarity in less time than it takes to tell it.

Meg got it. Finally.

She looked down at herself and screamed out in rage.

Her body was fused into the table, half in, half out. The back of her head thunked against the scarred wooden tabletop as she tried to move. Her head, from the neck up, her arms, up to her elbows, and her legs, from her knees down, stuck out of the front half of the table.

The rest of her body was on the back side. It reminded Meg of the wooden stocks those witch hunters had used back in Salem, back in the day. She'd jumped back and forth into all those stupid young girls, whipped the adults into a killing frenzy and then sat back watched the fun.

Good times.

_Well. _Meg laughed. That was a classic too. And she knew just the way to get out of this one.

Her vessel's mouth stretched wide. Her throat hitched.

Nothing happened.

Meg tried again.

Still nothing.

Meg cocked her head to one side. There was something burned into the tabletop. Some symbol. She could make out part of what looked like a circle, interlinked with a triangle...

It was a containment symbol. She was bound to the table now, caught like a fly in sticky paper.

_Damn you, Dean Winchester..._

Meg spent the next hour or so cursing fluently in Sumerian, Latin, French, Spanish, and just about every language she knew. She cursed Dean Winchester, cursed the entire Winchester family line. It was useless, but at least it made her feel better until she calmed down.

Meg knew a trick or two herself, but getting out of _this_ could take a while.

* * *

Dean tried to die, and Sam and Bobby wouldn't let him.

The days and hours melted into one endless blur. Dean was vaguely aware of being moved, handled. Bobby and Sam took turns caring for him. They sat him up in bed during the day, stripped his clothes off, washed his bruised, battered skin. Sam spooned food into Dean's mouth, and Dean refused to chew. Water dribbled down his chin and chest; Dean would not swallow.

Even when Dean kept his eyes open, he stared into space, stared through Sam and Bobby. They weren't the ones he wanted to see, of course. On some level Dean was dimly aware that Bobby knew the look. He'd seen that same awful, vacant stare overseas, on the faces of men who'd given up and just wanted to die.

Sam seemed puzzled by it. He kept saying "It's all right, Dean, it's okay," over and over again. Stupid kid thought if he kept saying that enough times it would be true. Dean wanted him to shut the hell UP. The deep ache in his back and right shoulder told him that things definitely were NOT all right. His tats were gone. He was alone in the world, stripped and defenseless.

That wasn't the worst of it.

Dean hated Sam right about now. He didn't feel too kindly towards Bobby either, but Sam was the worst one of the two. Sam wanted normal, so he ran away to Stanford. Dean didn't like that, not at all, but it was what Sam wanted, so he supported him, even drove him to the bus station that day. Now the tables had turned, and Dean found something_ he_ wanted with all his heart and soul.

What did Sam do? He hounded Dean, blocked him at every turn.

Didn't matter. Not anymore. Dean couldn't live with the failure, or the loss.

He'd failed everyone he ever loved. First Mom, even though he was just a kid at the time and he couldn't have done anything to prevent her fiery death. Years later Dad made the deal with that damned yellow-eyed demon to save Dean's worthless hide, after the car crash, and that was just another added weight. Dean knew he wasn't worthy of such a sacrifice, and the universe seemed only too happy to provide ample evidence of that fact, over and over again.

And now _this_. He'd failed Draco, Nancy and Nu-Kua. It was time to pay for that. He could will himself to die, and that would damn him just as surely as if he'd put his Colt in his mouth and pulled the trigger.

Suicides go to hell, at least at was the general consensus.

Time to test that idea.

* * *

"He's not getting any better, Sam," Bobby grumbled hours later. He stood by Dean's bedside and stared down at the eldest Winchester brother. Dean lay there pale and unresponsive, those ridiculously long eyelashes dark and sooty against pale freckled skin. Dean breathed so lightly that Bobby had to squint to see the rise and fall of his chest.

Bobby rubbed the back of his head with the palm of his hand. "Nothing we do is working. We gotta get him to a hospital."

Sam's shoulders hunched up. He looked and sounded horribly young and vulnerable. "What about the tats?"

Bobby snorted. "I'll think of a cover story." He could see the younger man was clearly in no condition to handle the authorities, medical staff or otherwise. "Stay with him while I bring the truck around."

Sam nodded. He didn't turn to watch Bobby as the older hunter walked out of the room. Sam focused on Dean, stared at his face intently, begging, pleading for his older brother to come back.

Dean opened his eyes.

* * *

Dad was here.

He looked sad. Not mad, not disappointed. He looked down at Dean and shook his head. "Never figured you for a quitter, son," the man rumbled softly.

Dean felt his lips move. They felt too thick, stretchy. Nothing came out, no words at first. Then: " 'm...'m n-not...'m not..."

"You're _not_?" Dad quirked an eyebrow at him. "Then what do you call _this_?"

Sam's head jerked up. "Dean?"

_No, _Dean thought, _not you. Don't wanna talk to you..._

"You mad at your brother now, is that it?" Dad whispered softly. "Sam and Bobby took you away from that life you had?"

"M-mine..." Dean mumbled thickly. "...n-not yours...not S-Sam's..."

"You wanted something for _yourself_. A life for yourself." Dad nodded. "I get it."

Sam's arm passed right through Dad as the younger man moved closer to Dean's bedside. Dad shimmered around the edges, broke apart, and then became solid again. Sam didn't notice, and Dad didn't seem to mind. The soft white light hurt Dean's eyes, and he closed them for a moment.

Sam leaned over, brushed his fingers across Dean's forehead. "D-Dean? Hey, bro', look at me, okay? I'm here-"

Dean's head moved away from Sam's touch, back and forth over the pillow.

"S-shut the f-fuck upp, S-Sam...n-not t-talkin' to y-you...'m-'m t-talkin' to D-Dad..."

"Dad?" Startled, Sam looked backwards over his shoulder. "Dean, Dad's not here. He's not-"

"W-why aren't you m-mad at me?" Dean groaned. "Wh-why d-don't you h-hate me?"

Sam stood there, confused and uncertain, caught in the middle. He stared at Dean and then glanced around the room again.

Dad shrugged. "I made the deal for _you_ first. I'd do it all over again if I had to. You made _this_ deal for_ Sam_. Not gonna hate you for something I already did."

"Christo," Dean whispered roughly.

Dad laughed.

"Dyin' has a way of changing the way a person looks at things." The skin around his eyes crinkled as he winked at Dean. "Trust me on_ that_ one, kiddo." His smile was sad, wistful, and Dean hated the sight of it. He wanted anger, even rage. Wanted to hear Dad thunder at him, "After all I taught you, you went and gave yourself to that _thing_?" There was none of that, only compassion and concern, and those were exactly the things that Dean felt he _didn't_ deserve.

"Dean?" Now Sam looked really worried. "Dean, I don't hate you."

The fever rose up underneath Dean's skin. He felt himself bob up and down just underneath the surface of what seemed like thick, warm dark water. He was so tired. He could rest, for a while, couldn't he? Close his eyes just for a moment, dream of Nancy, and NuKua and Draco. That wasn't _wrong_, was it?

Dean heard that familiar deep chuckle, and Dad's last words echoed in the space behind Dean's eyes. "Better not cross over, Dean. I'll kick your ass if you do."

"Yesssir..." Dean slurred softly, and then he slid away, from everything, into the dark.

* * *

_James Hetfield,_ the text message said. _St. Elizabeth's Hospital. Room 2E. Special package.

* * *

_

Nurse Sylvia Benefield glanced up as she saw the two men in black stride past the nurses' station. They looked neither right nor left, just straight ahead. There was no need for any pleasantries. This was strictly business; the payment for the information she provided was already deposited into her bank account. She very deliberately did not allow herself to think about what was probably going to happen to the green eyed male patient in 2E. Nurse Benefield also refused to think about the older man and that tall shaggy young one who'd brought the patient in this morning. After spending hours hovering outside James' room while the medical staff worked to stabilize his condition, the Hetfields were down in the cafeteria getting coffee.

They were under surveillance by other hospital employees, and the two men in black would be alerted when they were on the move again, back to Hetfield's room. They would, of course, encounter delays on the way up. Elevators would suddenly malfunction, corridors and stairwells back up to that floor would be blocked.

It was just another day at St. Elizabeth's. Nothing out of the ordinary.

* * *

The man in the hospital bed slept peacefully, deeply. He didn't react at all, not even when Agent Number One pulled back the sheet and blanket and stared at the subject. One leaned over, thumbed open first one eyelid, and then the other. Pupils were drug-glazed, unresponsive.

One nodded with satisfaction. "He's out like a light. Let's go to work."

Two very quickly pulled out a small digital camera and took various photos of the patient's face, close-up and in profile, while One pulled a device that looked like an IPad out of his briefcase. He keyed in an activation code, then placed the device flat on the bed next to Hetfield's right hand. One lifted Hetfield's hand, spread his slack warm fingers and pressed the man's palm flat against the black screen of the device. First the right hand, and then the left.

One stared at the screen as though it held all the answers, which it provided in seconds.

_Subject Name: Dean Michael Winchester (File #105732)_

_Description: White male; Height: 6'1"; Weight 180 pounds; Color of hair: Dark blond; Color of Eyes: Green_

_Born: Lawrence, Kansas_

_DOB: January 24, 1979_

_Parents: Mary and John Winchester (Deceased – cross reference files 105732A and 105732B)_

_Sibling: Samuel Winchester (cross reference file 105732C)_

_Criminal record: Credit card fraud, assault, grave desecration, breaking and entering, impersonating law enforcement officials, suspected in serial killings in St. Louis, Missouri. Subject was reportedly killed in the commission of an attempted murder. Cross reference autopsy results (105732D) on body found at scene...FULL DETAILS FOLLOW..._

_Note: this inquiry has been shielded from all police departments, the Federal Bureau of Investigation (See file on Victor Hendrickson, cross reference 105732E), US Marshals' Office, Homeland Security et al._

"Winchester. Like the rifle." One huffed as he slipped the flat screen device back into the case.

Two moved to the head of the bed as he put the camera back into his pocket. One reached down and pulled up the right sleeve of Winchester's hospital gown. There against the pale freckled flesh was the outline of what looked like a dragon. The skin inside the outline was red and inflamed.

"Ouch," Two muttered. "Looks like it was ripped off."

One nodded. "Never saw one like that before. Let's get him stripped down."

Minutes later the IVs and heart monitor were removed and the patient was lifted up into a sitting position.

"Heavier than he looks," Two grunted as the unconscious man lolled against him, his head slack and rolling against Two's shoulder. One nodded as he undid the back ties, then he pulled the gown down and off. Together they laid Winchester on his back. Dean Winchester was deep-chested, solidly built; his body was lean and well-muscled, even in his current weakened condition.

One reared back and gave a low whistle. "Look at the scars on him. What the hell..."

Both agents snapped picture after picture, from head to toe, then they rolled the subject over on his stomach, his head turned over to the side.

Two's eyes widened. The outline of the dragon tattoo across that broad back and shoulders was still impressive, even raw and inflamed; they could only imagine what it must have looked like fully inked. Dragon wings flared across Winchester's shoulders and halfway down his arms; the head of the dragon was bowed like a warhorse, its jaws gaped fiercely right in the crease between his shoulders. The dragon's tail snaked its way down and around his right buttock and his thigh.

Two's eyes narrowed. "New York City," he said flatly. "The Dragon Slayer."

He pulled an object from his jacket pocket. The device looked like a silver ink pen with a curious bulge at both ends. Two pulled the cap off and pushed down on the other end. A small sharp needle protruded from the end where the writing tip would be.

"We'll come back for the body later. Get it out of the morgue before his family does." Two fisted the device, his thumb pressed against the plunger at the top. He leaned over, aimed for the back of the neck. Once injected Dean Winchester would be dead in seconds.

One shook his head. "Wait a minute."

Two froze. "What?"

One reached into his briefcase, pulled out something that resembled a small silver gun. "DPcs said he was going to recover, right? We tag this one. Microchip and toss him back into the wild. See what else, _who_ else turns up."

Two eyed the tagger device. "Catch and release?"

One nodded. "We can always come get him any time we want." He looked at Winchester, scowled and shook his head. "Bet he was something back in the day, but that time's past."

He was the senior agent in the field, with the discretion to improvise sometimes. After all, they didn't have any direct orders to kill this one, and some of the eggheads back at the Brain Trust had been lobbying for live capture of a fully functioning dragon freak. Winchester wasn't _that_, not _anymore_, but maybe he could lead them to one that _was_.

Two capped the lethal injection device and slipped it back in his pocket.

One leaned over, placed the muzzle of the tagger against Winchester's left hip, and pulled the trigger.

* * *

Nancy growled to herself as she turned to face the men. She could see her reflection in the plexiglass of the protective goggles they wore: fierce golden eyes, ebony black shadow wings that stretched into the night sky behind her. She was magnificent and utterly terrifying to look at.

The men wore black uniforms with matching helmets and body armor. Nancy laughed when she saw the guns they carried. She didn't know if they were police, didn't know where they came from, and she didn't care. The street was otherwise deserted; the buildings she'd destroyed were on fire but curiously enough, first responders hadn't arrived yet. Dean and Draco's scent was all over this place, weak and fading fast. They were headblind now, and the absence of that deep rumble of a voice inside their collective heads was too much to bear. New York City was no longer home. Nancy and Nu-Kua hated the city now. They could have taken refuge with the dragons who swore allegiance. That was always an option, one that neither one ever considered. That was not their way. After ten days and nights of searching for Dean and Draco Nu-Kua and Nancy had finally reached their breaking point. They were both a little insane now, and neither one cared about _that_.

_My Beloved is in Hell, _Nu-Kua rumbled softly. Her nostrils flared with Draco's faint scent, mixed with the stench of sulfur. A ripple ran through Nu-Kua's great black body, as she imagined the darkness of the place. The image of Draco being pulled down to the hot red ground by thousands of grinning black-eyed demons made her throw back her head and roar in anguish.

Nancy roared too.

The vibration made street signs nearby melt like candle wax. Windows all around exploded outwards. Glass whickered through the air all around them. Nancy was cut on her arms and legs, but she didn't notice. She and Nu-Kua were one now. They watched as the men arranged themselves in a loose half circle around them

_...my Beloved...Draco..._

_...Dean..._

_...gone now...both of them..._

_...We should have stopped them. We should have stopped them both..._.

The man in the lead motioned for the others to move forward.

Nu-Kua reared upright, proud and defiant; Nancy smiled as her fingers shifted into razor sharp claws.

* * *

"Too bad it's not male," Two muttered as he looked through the binoculars. Agent One crouched beside him. They had sufficient cover, behind parked cars half a block away, and besides, the bitch was focused on the decoy acquisition team in front of her.

Agent One hefted the special rifle in his hands, raised it up and sighted very carefully through the night scope. He centered the cross hairs on the back of the woman's head. She had gloriously thick, dark curly hair, but even that wouldn't stop him from placing the chip where ever he wanted to. One dropped the sight slightly to a point just inside the junction of her neck and shoulder..

"Tagging this one," One whispered. He pulled the trigger just as a wave of unseen force emanating from the dragon freak made the air and ground shudder and shake. The barrel of the rifle jiggled, just a little.

"Son of a bitch!" One cursed out loud.

Too late. The shot had gone wrong, and things were about to get much worse.

* * *

Nancy staggered as something sharp slammed into the base of her neck. The impact spun her halfway around. She was dimly aware of the men around her. She couldn't understand how they had gotten that close that fast. Her knees bucked as an intense throbbing pain overwhelmed her sight. Gloved hands grabbed at her arms and body. Nancy lashed out with her left hand, claws fully extended. The team leader's body crumpled to the ground, as his severed head went spinning in the opposite direction.

Nu-Kua smelled sulfur in the air, and the men all around her had large black, shiny eyes.

_Not again, _she thought wildly. _Not again!_

Flight was her first instinct, her only one. She overrode Nancy's control of the body. Her shadow wings solidified themselves in the warm night air. One of the men threw his arms around her shoulders. Nu-Kua snarled and impaled him with her left wing-tip. The man died gurgling blood as Nu-Kua shook him off.

The others fell back. Nu-Kua leaped upward into the dark, welcoming sky.

Another beat of her massive wings, and they were free...

* * *

The days that passed between Cold Oak and Devil's Gate was a blur. Dean didn't mind.

He'd made the deal, as much as for Sam as he had for himself. He couldn't stand the sight of Sam's lifeless grey body lying on that table in the cabin. Dean barely remembered the bitter taste of the crossroad's demon's mouth as he sealed the deal. Taking care of Sam was his job, and he'd done that until the end. At least this was one failure he could set right. That was only fair.

Sam had his own plans, of course, to stop Lillith, to get Dean out of the deal. Dean didn't mind that either. He already knew how it would end, but he played along. They were after Lillith now, and the plan was to track her down and kill her in some Podunk demon infested little town. That was a Hail Mary play if there ever was one. Bobby had this look on his face, whenever Sam's back was turned, and Dean tried not to laugh.

Bobby _knew_. Dean was doomed and they were just going through the motions.

It was nearly over. Three hours until midnight. The hellhounds would come then.

Dying was liable to be godawful painful and gory, no doubt. He tried not to think about that. Maybe he was twisted the wrong way, but all Dean could think about was that Draco was in Hell. _That_ was some consolation, at least. Maybe Dean would see him downstairs, one way or another. That was probably wishful thinking, of course. Dean really couldn't see Satan or Lucifer or whoever was in charge down there nowadays doing him any flaming favors. He'd get what he deserved down there, all right. He'd made the deal, after all.

Dean checked his guns, watched as Sam slipped Ruby's demon-killing knife into his back waistband. Sam glanced up at him. For a split second Sam's mask slipped, became vulnerable and sad. That look lasted a second longer, and then Sam's game face settled down over his features.

Dean allowed himself to smile.

_You're gonna be all right,_ Dean thought to himself. _You're stronger than I am. I know you are. _

He felt relieved, and how screwed up was _that_?

"You ready?" Sam said calmly.

"Hell yeah." Dean winked at Sam, then Bobby. "We got work to do."

**_finis_**

* * *

**_A/N:_** There will, of course, be a sequel. We appreciate the kind reviews and the attention our loyal readers have given this story. Thank you!


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